


Because of You

by TheUnprofessionalWriter



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Clexa, Clexa Endgame, Closeted Character, Emphasising CLEXA ENDGAME, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, Like Super Slow Burn Im Not Kidding, Slow Burn, Theyre both useless and really only have eyes for each other, trust me - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-18 03:03:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 118,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21520822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUnprofessionalWriter/pseuds/TheUnprofessionalWriter
Summary: When Lexa was in the first grade, she was accused of being a lesbian by a certain blonde. In the small-minded town of Arkadia, word traveled quickly, and soon Lexa and her family had to leave the town behind after Lexa was made out to be the villain.Now in her senior year, Lexa returns to Arkadia, alone, and faces the town that turned their hatred towards her, and finds that, maybe, people can in fact change.But it may take a while for her to see that.
Relationships: Clarke Griffin & Lexa, Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Comments: 829
Kudos: 2107





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there!
> 
> I've started getting into writing and needed some practice, so here we are! Also will never live without Clexa in my heart, so I'm here to help them live on for at least a little while longer. 
> 
> Just a short one at first. Let me know what you think, any and all feedback is more than welcome!
> 
> Cheers!

First grade was supposed to be easy. It was supposed to be playing with friends, learning how to spell, and making a mess in art class. At worst, it was supposed to be skinning your knee on the playground because you tripped over your own uncoordinated feet. It was not supposed to be like this. 

“It’s not supposed to be like this” was the one thought repeatedly going through Alexandria Woods’ mind as she walked through the playground on her first day of school, as every other student either pointed and laughed, or ran away from her because they thought “they might catch it.” 

“It’s not supposed to be like this,” she thought, as she made her way quickly to the bathroom so she could lock herself in a stall and cry in peace. 

“It’s not supposed to be like this,” she thought, as Clarke Griffin, the little blonde who somehow managed to become the most popular kid in the grade in the first two hours of her schooling career, followed her into the bathroom with a loyal group of worshippers, and began taunting her again. 

“I don’t even know what a lesbian is,” is the other thought racing through Alexandria’s mind. All she did was compliment Clarkes hair. She thought the way it glowed in the sun was very pretty, and she wanted to make friends. Then Clarke ran away and shouted that she was a lesbian, pointing and laughing, all with a smug, proud look on her face. All the other kids were quick to catch on, with Clarke gathering a small crowd before she even knew what was happening. 

None of the teachers intervened. They just looked over, frowned slightly, and went back to whatever it is teachers do during recess. Alexandria was left to fend for herself, in a situation she was completely confused by.

She thought hard as she hugged her knees to her chest on top of the closed toilet, tears silently streaming down her face as she tried to figure out what happened, and why everyone hates her because of a single compliment. She tried to understand their actions, their taunts and their pounding on the stall door. 

She doesn’t understand why they hate her. 

_____________________________

She told her parents that her first day was good. That she made a heap of new friends and she learnt so much. They beamed at her, not seeing through the lie or noticing how red and puffy her eyes were. 

They were too busy with Aden, the seven-month-old they had adopted just one week ago. He cried a lot, but Alexandria just assumed that’s what babies do, and she didn’t really mind. He was cute and he was her brother, so she would deal with the fussiness of the infant as best she could to prove she was the best big sister, and the best daughter. Besides, at times like this, she was grateful her parents’ attention was directed elsewhere. She didn’t want to have to explain what happened, or risk seeming foolish for not understanding the taunting. 

She walked up the stairs of the large house to her bedroom, closing the door quietly as to not draw any attention to herself. She stood by her bed, fists to her eyes, attempting to push the tears back in. 

“Google. Google will help.” But as Alexandria sat at her small desk, littered with books and pencils and notepads, with the definition of lesbian (autocorrected from lezbean) up on the screen in front of her, she still didn’t understand.

And this just made the tears flow faster.

____________________________

Her parents found out three weeks later. Indra and Gustus Woods were called to have a meeting with the school principal, because their daughter had gotten into a fight. 

They rounded the corner to the principals office, noticing first the scowl on the face of the man sitting behind an obnoxiously large desk, a plaque with ‘Charles Pike’ adorning the edge face, and then the tear and blood stained face of their little girl, slouched on a chair in the corner of the room. 

“What happened?!” Gustus asked, the burly man rushing over to cup Alexandria’s face in his large hands, inspecting the cut on the bridge of her nose and wiping the blood steadily dripping from her nose. 

“Your daughter,” Pike spat, “provoked some students and started a fight out on the field. Some of our best students, too, and now I have to explain to our most generous donors why their children are injured! All because of her!”

“I did not! They started it, I-“

“Don’t start, Woods, I could have you expelled for this!”

“How exactly did Alexandria provoke them?” Her mother asked calmly, stepping between her daughter and Pike with a sleeping Aden bundled to her chest. 

“She has been flaunting around this… this… sickness! Since her first day. Everyone knows and it is completely unacceptable behaviour!”

Indra and Gustus exchanged a confused look, before turning towards their daughter. With eyes wide and face flushed, she mumbled out a soft, “I don’t even know what it means.” 

“What do you mean, ‘sickness’?” Indra asked as she turned back to Pike, worry thick in her voice, Gustus staying next to his daughter and trying to calm her the best he could. 

“She’s a lesbian! Has been telling everyone since the start! Prancing about and threatening the other children! They’re all terrified!” Pike snapped, disgust dripping from every word. 

“No, I haven’t! Clarke started it when all I did was say she has pretty hair!” 

“Miss Griffin is a star student, and her family is one of the most respected in the town! You better stop lying, Woods, or the consequences will become even more severe!” Alexandria, with jaw clenched and lip trembling, looked pleadingly over to her parents, hoping that they would believe her. 

Indra and Gustus stared at their daughter for a few moments, processing the words that had just been yelled across the room, before both turned to stare at Pike, faces red and tempers rising. Gustus was the first to break the heavy silence.

“SHE IS 6 YEARS OLD! HOW ARE YOU PUNISHING AND VILLAINISING A CHILD THAT DOESN’T EVEN KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS?!” he bellowed, standing to his full, hulking size and striding towards Pike.

“AND EVEN IF SHE DID, AND SHE WAS A LESBIAN, WHO ARE YOU TO HATE MY CHILD?! WHAT DOES THAT HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH THE REST OF WHO SHE IS?!”

“Mr. Woods, it is a sin-“

“You do not get to speak right now, Mr. Pike,” Indra cut in sharply, her eyes fierce as she gently bounced the now fussing child on her chest. “Alexandria, tell us what happened, please.”

“She is to blame for-“

“NOT ANOTHER WORD, PIKE!” Gustus yelled, startling Aden further, and making his daughter jump in her seat.”

“I was just sitting by myself on the grass. No one plays with me because they all think I’m gross or something. Then this group of fourth graders started yelling at me and throwing rocks,” Alexandria explained, lifting up her right hand where a deep gash ran across the back of it. 

“I tried to stop them hitting my face and that’s how I got this and then I yelled at them to leave me alone and then they walked over and pushed me and started kicking me and I got up and tried to hit them back and I did a little bit but there was three of them and they’re all bigger than me and they all started hitting me at once and then a Mr. Pike showed up and they all ran and he yelled at me for causing a scene and making everyone angry and, and, and-“ 

Gustus walks over and hugged his child, holding her together as she broke apart against his chest, while his wife turned slowly towards Pike with squared shoulders and fire in her eyes.

“How dare you accuse my daughter of anything. How DARE you accuse her of starting a fight. Of being anything but the victim. How DARE you, tell her that she is sick, because, Mr. Pike, whoever she grows up to be, whoever she grows up to love, she will ALWAYS, be a better person than you could ever hope of being,” she seethed.

“Mrs. Woods-“

“No. No, we are not discussing this further. Gustus, take her to the car, we’re leaving,” she said, calmly gathering herself up and resting a soothing hand on Adens back. 

Gustus scooped up his still shaking daughter and did as told, carrying Alexandria out of the office and making his way out of the school. 

“And Pike? You, and everyone else that made my daughter feel like nothing, can go to hell.” 

Indra turned and walked out of his office without so much as a glance, satisfied with the offended look on his face, and completely lost as to what to do with Alexandria next.


	2. The 'New' Neighbour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the next chapter! I just did a quick edit, so excuse any mistakes and such.
> 
> Let me know your thoughts!

Clarke wakes earlier than she wanted. She scrunches her eyes closed tighter, burying her face in her pillow and groans at the incessant beeping coming from outside. Even when it stops, and she thinks she can go straight back to sleep, the sound of a roller door and the revving of an old car brings about another, heavier groan. 

She lifts her face from the pillow and, with blonde hair sticking out around her head and creases from the pillow indented on her cheeks, she reaches for her phone on the side table and checks the time. 

7:06am. 

_“Who the fuck is up at 7:06 fucking am during summer?”_

Another groan emanates from the pillow shortly after she faceplants it, muffled, but still loud enough to summon a knock on her door and the concerned voice of her father.

“You alright in there kiddo?”

“Whyyyyyy,” is her mumbled reply, barely lifting her face from the pillow to respond.

A soft laugh rumbles from the other side of the door, before it slowly inches open to reveal the kind, tired eyes of her dad. 

“I think the new neighbours want to be made known to the rest of the street. Come on, your mother and I are making pancakes, you can have them while they’re warm, for once,” he chuckled, seeing Clarke’s head pop up from her pillow and turn towards him with excitement, her annoyance at the unwanted wakeup call being forgotten for now. 

Clarke is a notoriously late sleeper, going to sleep around 4am and waking around noon. Claiming she ‘functions better at night’ and ‘finds it easier to get the creative juices flowing in the dark abyss of the early morning.’ She has sacrificed many a fresh batch of pancakes for her sleep schedule. 

“Do we have strawberries?” Her eyes squint in question.

“Of course.”

“Bananas?”

“We aren’t monsters, Clarke. Of course we have bananas.”

“How about Nu-“

“Yes, we have Nutella too, Clarke. It’s been about 20% of your diet since you were six.”

“… I’ll be downstairs in ten minutes,” she says, nodding tiredly, eyes still squinted but satisfied with the picture of her ridiculously extravagant stack of pancakes she plans on devouring that floats in her mind. 

Her dad closes the door softly, chuckling at his daughters’ antics as he makes his way downstairs. Clarke, still mildly annoyed at the noise still coming from across the street, slowly makes her way into her bathroom, turning on the shower, and yelps at the cold water she walks into after forgetting to turn on the hot water.

_“This is gonna be a great day.”_

________________________

Clarke makes her way downstairs eight minutes later, hair still damp and cheeks flushed from the hot water that she did eventually remember to turn on. Her bare feet pad through the expansive living room, making her way to the kitchen where she can hear her parents talking softly. 

“Clarke! Nice of you to join us for breakfast, for once,” her mother says chirpily, leaning against the kitchen counter and taking small sips of her coffee.

“Now now, Abby, Clarke can’t handle any jabs this early in the morning. You already heard her forgetting to turn on the hot water. Again.” Clarke rolled her eyes, weakly protesting that ‘there should only be one tap and it should be the perfect temperature immediately,’ and makes her way over to the generous stack of pancakes already waiting on the table for her, setting to work to make the most elaborate pancake stack known to man. 

Abby and Jake both chuckle at the look of complete concentration on their daughters face, her tongue poking out slightly as she spreads a thick layer of Nutella evenly over each pancake, and carefully places an abundance of fruit strategically on and around the stack.

“Your father and I will be home around the usual time, Clarke. Do you need us to grab anything from the store? Raven and Octavia are coming over tonight, right?”

Not taking her eyes off her pancakes, Clarke hums an affirmation.

“We will need more details than a distracted hum, Clarke,” Abby says in faux annoyance, hiding her smile behind her coffee cup.

“Raven and Octavia are staying the night. We are watching movies. We will need popcorn. Also some icecream. A whole lot of icecream. And chocolate. We are feasting.”

Clarke finally looks up at her parents, both of them staring at her with fondness at her inability to multitask, and nods, as if agreeing with herself that all the food is an absolute must and that her list was concise enough to not waste any precious pancake time. 

Abby shakes her head at her daughter, pulling out her phone to make a list of the required supplies.

“We’ve got to get going now kiddo, enjoy your pancakes and all the extra time you now have today,” Jake says, walking over to place a gentle kiss on the top of Clarke’s head. She grunts in response, still trying to perfectly place the obscene amount of fruit on her pancakes. 

Abby, also with a kiss to the top of her head, says her goodbye, gathers her things, and follows Jake out the front door, both off to the town’s clinic where she works as a doctor, and he as the head of radiography. 

Left in peace with her elaborate breakfast, Clarke slowly designs the pancake stack of her dreams; the only reason she even got out of bed instead of trying to go back to sleep. Finally satisfied with the arrangement, she reaches for her phone so she can send a picture to her friends, who share her love for Instagram worthy pictures of food. 

As she goes to take the picture, the loud revving of a motorbike sounds from across the street, making her jump and consequentially drop her phone on her glorious breakfast. Hands still poised, as if the phone remains in her hands, she stares at the mess in front of her. 

_“Don’t you dare cry over pancakes, Clarke.”_

She lowers her hands and meekly grabs her phone, now caked in a thick layer of Nutella and small bits of fruit. 

_“See, not that bad.”_

She slowly goes about repairing her masterpiece, when the slamming of a door, once again, makes her jump, her knee hitting the table from underneath, and causing the fruit to fall off the stack and onto the plate. 

She turns her head towards the front of the house, as if her glare could be felt through drywall, glass, and fifty metres of street. Before she could return her attention to her now disaster of a plate, the motorbike once again comes to life. At this, Clarke quickly stands and storms towards the front door, still barefoot and dressed in what could only be described as glorified pyjamas.

_“I just want my fucking breakfast.”_

With a deep scowl and a slight pout, she whips open the door and marches out, making a beeline for the figure casually sat atop a sleek black motorbike in the driveway of the house across the street. 

_“Who do they think they are, sitting there like they didn’t wake up the whole neighbourhood and ruin my perfect breakfast.”_

She crosses the street with only a quick glance both ways, eyes set on the leather clad figure still sat on the bike, now scrolling through their phone.

_“Acting as if it’s cool to just sit on a cool bike in cool clothes and pretend as though they can see their phone through their helmet, as if people think they’re cool.”_

She walks past the large moving trucks and threads her way through a mass of moving men, carrying boxes and furniture into the large house that had been empty for months.

_“Why did they have to move in across from ME? What did I do to deserve such an inconsiderate neighbour? To have my breakfast absolutely shat upon by some douche on a bike? To have my summer ruined by someone who thinks motorbike helmets are a normal piece of attire that one wears to look through their phone?”_

She reaches the motorbike and pauses, now somewhat confused as to how she was supposed to scold someone for making her drop her phone on her pancakes without sounding at least a little bit insane. 

She clears her throat, making the helmet clad person tilt their head in her direction, though did little else in terms of conveying her anger. It was more like a six-year-old tried to get the attention of their teacher on the first day of school.

She cleared her throat again, louder this time, her face flushing slightly at her own internal embarrassment at storming over to make a scene, all because of pancakes. And she couldn’t even get the attention of the person she’s trying to yell at. 

_“Good thinking, Clarke. Let even more people know about your unhealthy pancake obsession.”_

Just as she was planning on turning back to her house and pretending this never happened, the figure dropped her phone onto the seat of the bike, in the space between her legs, and turned her head completely towards her. Clarke thought she saw them tense, but they recovered too quickly for her to be sure.

Clarke gulped down the nerves she felt at the intimidating way the person slowly rose from their bike and stood squarely in front of her, head tilted down to look at the now trembling blonde who stood two inches shorter. 

“Yes?” The voice was low, but Clarke decided it was female which, much to her disapproval, just about tripled her nervousness. 

_“Okay this was the worst idea. How am I-“_

“Did you need something or are you just gonna stand in my way and stare with those big blue eyes?”

Clarke snapped back into focus and narrowed her eyes at the still concealed woman. Her anger once again rising, she lifted her chin and said with the most steady and low voice she could muster:

“You made me drop my phone on my pancakes.”

“… what?”

_“Oh shit.”_

“I said,” Clarke’s voice wavered, “that you made me drop my phone. Onto my pancakes. That I had perfectly crafted into an Instagram worthy masterpiece. That I wasn’t going to post on Instagram because that’s not what I do,” she rambled. 

“… so you dropped your phone on your pancakes?”

“Yes. When your motorbike revved and when the door slammed. And now my friends are waiting for the picture of my epic pancake stack. That I no longer have. Because it was ruined. Twice.”

“… why didn’t you just eat the pancakes?”

“…what?”

“Why is the picture so important? Just eat the pancakes.”

_“How dare she.”_

“Because pancake stacking is an art.” Clarke stated, with such a ridiculous amount of confidence that the leather clad figure crossed her arms and leant back, tilting her head to the side to figure out if Clarke was serious or not. 

They stared at each other for a while, the shame of Clarke’s words weighing on her more heavily with each passing second. The woman seemed to be eyeing Clarke, taking in every feature.

“You live across the street.”

Clarke gave the woman a confused look.

“Yes?”

“How old are you?”

“…what?”

“Answer the question.”

“I’ll be eighteen in three months. Why?”

“You came to yell at me because you dropped your phone onto your pancakes. Because you needed to send a picture to your friends of the food you spent an absurd amount of time playing with.”

“…Yes?”

The woman shakes her head and looks at the ground for a few moments, before reaching up to remove her helmet.

The first thing Clarke notices is the thin white line cutting across the tan skin on the back of her right hand. 

Then she notices the long brown curls.

Then she notices green eyes. 

The greenest eyes, actually.

The kind of green that would take hours to replicate on a canvas.

Clarke stares at the woman in front of her, who looks much younger than someone who could afford a house as nice as the one she is moving in to. She takes in the strong features and soft skin, the pouty lips and the clenched jaw and intense eyes that almost looked to be daring her. 

“…how old are you?” That seems to be Clarke’s main concern, not seeming to notice the look of pure hatred in the eyes of the girl.

“Eighteen.”

“Where’s your family? Shouldn’t you be helping them move stuff in, or something?”

“They’re dead.”

Cold eyes dare her to ask more questions. 

“Aren’t you a little young to be moving into a house like that by yourself?” Clarke had never been one to notice her own tactlessness. 

The girl remained unmoving for several moments, glaring at Clarke with such intensity it makes goose bumps rise on Clarke’s arms.

_“Oh I fucked up.”_

She takes a few steps in, leaning further over Clarke and causing her to take a step back.

“Have you really never learnt to mind your own business?” Her voice is threatening, low and dangerous and Clarke takes a few more steps back as she continues to advance on her. 

“Have you ever thought, for maybe even a second, that not everything and everyone has to pay you attention and give you whatever you want?”

She advances quicker, helmet still in her left hand. Clarke stumbles slightly.

“Are you so entitled that, because of your own ego and vanity, you came over here to yell at me because you dropped you own fucking phone, onto a stack of fucking pancakes, all because you didn’t get a good picture to show your fucking friends?”

Clarke’s back hits the side of the moving truck, her palms flat against it. She gulps and her eyes widen even further in fear as the other girl moves to place her right hand against the truck, to the left of Clarke’s head.

“How about you just go back over to the little castle of yours, princess, sit your ass down, and eat those perfect little pancakes that Mommy and Daddy made just for you as a reward for being such an arrogant little shit. And leave me the fuck alone.” 

And then she was walking away, bending to hoist a box onto one shoulder, and disappeared into the house without a backwards glance. 

Men still bustled around her, her back still firmly pressed against the side of the truck. Clarke stood there for a while, staring at the open door and wondering what the fuck just happened.

With tears in her eyes and her head hung in defeat, she shakily pushed off the truck, and made her way back to her house to eat the destroyed masterpiece that was her breakfast. 

_“What a great fucking day.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10 points to whoever can guess what food I'm craving right now.


	3. Realisations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is here! 
> 
> I cannot begin to describe how thankful I am for all the kudos and kind words, it means the world. 
> 
> Also, to all those people who said 'waffles': thank you. I have never wanted waffles more in my life than I do right now. I did get my pancakes though. But now they're not enough.

“We’re home, Clarke! How were your pancakes? We were expecting a picture,” her father yelled up the stairs with a smile as he and Abby walked through the front door, hauling with them an obscene amount of grocery bags filled with various goodies.

When no answer came, Abby and Jake exchanged a confused glance, making their way into the kitchen to deposit the bags. Jake went about putting everything away, while Abby made her way up the stairs, going right down the hall and towards Clarke’s bedroom. 

She knocked softly, leaning close to the door to listen for a response. Again, there was nothing, though she could hear music playing faintly, and the soft sounds of movement on the other side.

Abby slowly opened the door, peaking her head around and seeing Clarke, headphones on, sitting in front of her easel and working on a large canvas, most of which was obscured from Abby’s view.

“Clarke?” she tried again, not wanting to startle her daughter. She moved further into the room, standing behind Clarke and taking in the stunning green of the forest scene she had created.

Abby waited until Clarke took a moment to look over her work, paint brush held carelessly to the side, before she went up to gently tap her on the shoulder.

“MOTHERFUCKER!” Abby jumped back, trying not to laugh as her daughter threw her paintbrush onto the drop sheet that lived under her easel, ripping her headphones off and whipping around to glare are her. 

“Did someone call?” Jake pops his head into the room, a happy grin gracing his features at the unamused look on his wife’s face and the look of disgust on his daughters’. 

“I’ve told you so many times not to do that! You’re gonna kill me one of these days I swear I can no longer feel my heart beat.” Dramatic as always, Clarke has one hand over her heart, the other placed on her hip as she stares off into the middle distance and tries to regain control of her breathing. 

“Oh you’ll be fine. Now come downstairs and appreciate all the food we got for you,” Jake says with the excitement of a child, waving his arm in an exaggerated ‘let’s go’ motion, and practically skipping down the hall and down the stairs, his family staring after him until he is out of sight. 

Abby turns towards her daughter, who is still staring at her empty doorway, and notices the creases in her forehead and the slight downturn of her mouth. 

“What’s wrong?”

Clarke whips her head up, eyes wide, and feigns nonchalance.

“Nothing. Nothing at all. What’s up with you?”

Abby raises an eyebrow at her daughter, familiar with the very obvious tells when she lies. 

“Clarke Griffin, I am so happy that you are such a terrible liar. It puts me at peace. Helps me sleep at night, even, knowing you could not tell a lie if your life depended on it. Thank you.”

It’s Clarke’s turn to lift an eyebrow at her mother. She hesitates, wondering if she should tell her mom about what happened with the new neighbour. She is looking off, weighing the pros and cons of basically telling her mother on the stranger, when her father calls up again, insisting that Clarke come down to inspect all the icecream he so proudly bought. 

“Well,” she sighs, clapping her hands together, “duty calls mom. Sorry to leave like this, but I must go appease my father and view his purchases.” Clarke, hands casually linked behind her back, slides towards the door. 

“I’m sorry it has to be this way, but, alas, this is the way is must be. Farewell mother, this was a good talk.” Now halfway out the door, Clarke leans her head in, walking backwards as Abby watches, arms crossed and with that eyebrow still raised.

“I will miss this. Again, sorry, but it has to be done.” With a final nod, Clarke turns and hurries down the hall, flinging herself around the bannister and hopping her way down the stairs. Her mother watches on, shaking her head and slowly making her way to be with the people she can now hear animatedly discussing the various flavours of icecream and which is best. 

_______________________

“So wait, you seriously went across the street to yell at a total stranger because the totally normal sounds one would hear outside made your clumsy ass drop your phone on your ‘masterpiece of a pancake stack’?” Raven asked, air-quotes and all, with a look of complete disbelief and amusement plastered on her face.

“And then this totally hot, motorbike riding, leather wearing eighteen-year-old chick absolutely shuts you down, scares the shit out of you, and majestically picks up and carries what looked to be a very heavy box into her house without even glancing down at the cleavage that I’m sure was on show?” Octavia adds, failing miserably at keeping a straight face.

Clarke stares open-mouthed at her best friends, looking back and forth between the two, unable to defend herself at all because, well, they summed it up perfectly. 

“… the cleavage part wasn’t included in my version, but I mean, you’re technically not wrong.”

Raven was the first to crack, clutching at her stomach as she rolls on Clarkes bed in a fit of uncontrollable laughter. Octavia follows moments later from her place on the floor, leaning her back against the bed and holding herself up with one arm as the other wraps around her stomach.

Clarke groans.

_“Why am I friends with assholes?”_

“Guysssss,” she whines, pouting from her desk chair, placing her tub of icecream on the desk and falling dramatically to the floor. She sprawls out staring at the ceiling.

“What am I gonna do? She’s my freaking neighbour, I’m gonna have to see her at some point with this whole “hey, small towns need everyone to know everyone so we’ll have whole freaking gatherings constantly because who doesn’t want to listen to old people talk politics and teenagers also talk politics because politics is all this damn conservative town can manage to think about” thing.”

Octavia appears above her, her dark hair curtaining her face and tickling Clarkes’. 

“Well, the solution is obvious.”

“It is?”

“Absolutely,” Raven quips from the bed, rolling onto her stomach to share a conspiratorial look with Octavia.

“…and?”

Octavia looks back at Clarke, upside-down.

“We’re going to have to kill her.”

“It’s the only solution really. Unless you wanna leave town but that involves you moving, and I get the sense you’re not too into that right now.”

Clarke huffs and pushes Octavia’s laughing face from above her, sitting up and pushing her hair back from her face.

“Guys, I’m serious. This is so embarrassing, I just met her and she already hates me. She just assumes I’m an entitled ass and… I’m… not? What was that look?” she points at her friends, noticing the quick glance they shared.

“Oh, uhhh, nothing.” 

“Yeah, Clarke, you’re a delight,” Raven adds, smiling far too widely to be sincere.

“Hey! What does that mean?” Clarke asks, frantically looking back and forth between the two of them. 

Octavia looks at Raven nervously, before looking at the floor and fiddling with the thick carpet. 

“It’s just, you know. You have rich parents. You get everything you ask for. Always have. You can sometimes come across as a bit…” She looks pleadingly at Raven.

“Entitled,” Raven states bluntly. 

“I do not!”

“Clarke,” Octavia starts, “just last week you got super offended because you didn’t win that raffle at the fair. As if they personally decided that you wouldn’t get that $25 gift card that you don’t even need.”

“And just yesterday, you couldn’t even fathom the idea of me not having a phone until I was fifteen.” Octavia points at Raven, nodding and agreeing.

“Yeah, and, may I remind you, just this morning you went across the street to yell at a stranger because they ‘ruined your breakfast.’”

“What about that time she got all confused because I said I couldn’t afford to go to the movies for the 5th time that week? And was all like “what do you mean? It’s only like $20?””

“Or whenever she isn’t picked first for anything, even when she sucks at the thing?”

“Oh yeah! Those moments are my favourite!” Raven laughs.

“Or when we told her she should get a job and then she-“

“OKAY! I got it, that’s enough! Thank you both for being so kind about that, I appreciate it immensely,” Clarke interrupts, her arms folded and her pout deeper, looking more like a petulant child than the almost-adult she is. 

“Clarke, have you seriously never noticed that you get away with _literally_ everything? I don’t think I have ever seen you get punished. For anything.” Raven asks seriously. 

“Like when we were all caught at that party. You were the drunkest one there, yet you were the only one that didn’t have their parents called.”

“And whenever we all ditch class, you’re the _only_ one that has never gotten detention.”

“Or when you put that whoopie cushion on Kane’s chair.”

“I got blamed for that one.”

“Oh yeah! See Clarke, other people get in shit for your shit!” Octavia laughs at the pout on Ravens face as she remembers the accusations and detentions.

“… well that stuff technically isn’t my fault? I mean, maybe I’m just lucky?”

Raven laughed at that.

“Clarke, you’re the richest white kid in a small town. You’re like a cult leader.”

“Yeah, remember in like first grade or something, weren’t you the one that started that rumour that that kid was a lesbian?”

Clarke groaned, again.

“Oh god, don’t remind me.”

“Wait, what?” Raven gave them both a confused look before glaring at Clarke. “What happened with that?”

“Dude there was so much drama before you showed up in high school, you missed out big time.” Octavia looks to Clarke expectantly, waiting for her to tell Raven the story.

She rolls her eyes and sighs, but goes on to explain.

“It was the first day of school. I had spent the whole summer with my grandparents because mom and dad were busy building their careers and such, and you know how they are.” Raven nods, having met Clarke’s very conservative grandparents more times than she would have liked.

“This girl comes up to me and told me I have pretty hair. And for some fucking reason, my response was to call her a lesbian and basically bully her so fucking bad the whole fucking school turned against a six-year-old. Even the teachers.”

“Holy shit Clarke, what the fuck?”

“She left like, three weeks later. She got beat up pretty bad…” Clarke looks off and chews on her lip, Raven staring at her, mouth open, while Octavia stares intently at the floor. Which Raven notices.

“You bullied her too, didn’t you?”

Octavia looks up, guilt obvious in her eyes. 

“Literally everyone you’re friends with right now, Raven, was a part of that. All of us did our part. Clarke just… started it all.” Clarke, still chewing intently on her bottom lip, nods weakly.

“Do your parents know?”

“…I never got in trouble for it…” she said quietly, “the then principal, Pike, even apologised to me for my name even coming up. Said it was all a misunderstanding…”

“…you gotta be a next level dumbass to not see that you’re entitled, Clarke. You have _literally never, NEVER,_ been punished for anything. That doesn’t just happen, and you turn out as the best kid ever. You expect people to bend to your will, hence why you thought that yelling at a stranger, _over pancakes,_ was a logical and reasonable thing to do. And why you’re so shocked that you were called out for it.”

“… you do have some big dumbass energy, Clarke,” Octavia states. 

“…okay, yeah, I definitely see your point. What do I do now though?”

Raven and Octavia stare at her for a while, not saying anything and confusing Clarke.

“…what?”

“You fucking apologise you absolute fucking pistachio,” Raven says, sending Octavia into another fit of laughter, and making Clarke go bright red.

“Okay, okay. Can we watch movies already? I need to stuff my face to feed my ever-growing shame of who I am as a person.”

“I don’t think there is enough food here for that, Clarke.”

“RAVEN!”

_____________________

It took a while to choose the first movie, mostly because Clarke and Raven couldn’t get Octavia to stop laughing long enough to contribute to the discussion.

In the end, they decided to marathon some of their favourite Marvel movies, successfully making it through four and a half films and an ungodly amount of food before they began to pass out.

Raven was the first to go, snoring softly from her upside-down position on Clarke’s bed. Octavia suggested they draw on her face, enthusiastically describing all the obscene things they could scribble on their friend, but she, too, fell asleep before she got the chance to fulfill the vandalism project of her dreams. 

Clarke sat on the floor surrounded by all the pillows she could gather, watching the third Iron Man movie by herself, when she heard something coming from across the street. 

She silently stood and made her way over to her window, moving the curtains slightly and peeking out into the dark.

_“I swear, if something jumps out, I’m gonna die.”_

The lights are on in the house across the street and the garage door is open. Clarke could see movement inside the garage, determining that it was in fact the new neighbour, and not some delinquent breaking in.

_“Who decides to do mechanical work at 4:30 in the morning?”_

She watches for a few moments, taking in the confident yet careful movements of the stranger, obviously trying not to make too much noise so early in the morning. 

_“Does she wake up this early, or has she not slept yet? Who the heck does actual work this early?”_

She watches as the stranger stops her movements, wrench tightly in her grip, and slowly turns her head and looks towards Clarkes house. 

_“Motherfucking shit.”_

The curtains continue to shift for a few moments after Clarke jumps away from the window, heart pounding and cheeks flushed red. 

_“I have got to be the weirdest fucking neighbour ever, my god.”_

Embarrassed, Clarke shuffles over to the stack of pillows littering the floor, finding her spot next to Octavia. She turns off the tv and lays down, staring at the ceiling and hoping beyond all things holy that the girl didn’t actually see her staring out her window at 4:30 in the fucking morning. 

She rubs at her face and huffs. 

_“How do I just go over there and apologise?”_

She stares at the glow in the dark constellation stickers that remain on the ceiling from her childhood, working through the conversation she had with Raven and Octavia earlier in the night. 

_“… I guess I just… walk over and… apologise.”_

She frowns at the ceiling, struggling to think of anything sophisticated or eloquent to put in her apology. Her frown becomes deeper when she realises that she has, in fact, never actually had to construct an apology like this before. She had never gotten put in her place like she had the previous morning.

And she never even noticed.

_“Holy fuck, I am an entitled little shit.”_

She doesn’t sleep for a few hours, only succumbing when the sun starts to rise and the soft sounds from the garage across the street turns to silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Naww, Clarke is growing (kinda). 
> 
> Let me know your thoughts!


	4. It Happened Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! Here is the next chapter!
> 
> I'm having so much fun writing this, and everyones feedback has been so kind, thank you all! I hope I continue to write adequately enough to keep you guys entertained. 
> 
> Cheers!

When Clarke wakes up the next morning, the sun still blindingly bright through the closed curtains, it is to muffled laughter and rhythmic taps scattered across her face. 

“Clarke.”

“Clarke, move your ass, we want food.”

“All you can ever think about is food, Raven.”

“You’re right, I should definitely be more focused on the smoking hot girl across the street working on her even hotter motorbike. You know her, right Clarke? The one that handed you your ass yesterday?”

Clarke’s eyes burst open, resulting in a hiss from the blonde and laughter from her friends.

“What the fuck guys, let me sleep. It’s like the middle of the night,” she grumbles, rolling onto her side and burying her face into the nest she had built for herself on the floor. 

“It’s 11am, Clarke, it’s the middle of the day. We need sustenance. We are growing children. You’re neglecting your children, Clarke.”

“Raven, if you’re my child, I must have really made some mistakes in life.”

“Didn’t we establish that last night? Ya know, the whole entitled dumbass pistachio thing?” Raven laughs as Clarke launches a pillow at her, smacking her directly in the face and sending her falling backward onto the mattress.

The now pouting Clarke sits up within her nest, arms crossed, and glares at Raven and Octavia, who is once again rolling on the floor in a fit of laughter. Clarke rubs at her face and groans, deflating. While her friends continue to laugh at her, her mind drifts again to the new neighbour and, more specifically, the apology that she still needs to construct and deliver in the next few hours. 

“This is just gonna support the entitled dumbass pistachio theory but… how do I apologise to her?” she asks weakly, peeking out from behind her hands at the two girls currently staring at her, unimpressed. 

Octavia and Raven share a devious look, turning towards Clarke with serious eyes and with hands calmly folded in their laps.

“Apologising is an art, Clarke. It requires skill. Elegance. Cunning.” Octavia stands, hands now behind her back, and walks slowly around the room, staring at nothing in particular as her list continues. 

“The ability to feel shame. An empty stomach, just in case you’re one of those people that throws up when you get nervous. Also one of those small smoke bombs those magicians use so that you can make a quick escape when you inevitably fuck it all up.”

“A baseball bat, just in case the smoke bomb fails and you need to ensure there are no witnesses to your lack of self-awareness, and your inability to move quickly enough for the smoke bomb trick to work,” Raven jumps in.

Clarke stares as both her friends pace the room, continuing to list more and more ridiculous requirements for her apology. 

“…a set of matches, to control the fire ants lest they realise that they could absolutely dominate the world.”

“Extra fire, to control that fire, lest it realise-“

“Okay!! I think I’ll just go over and say that I’m sorry. Thank you so much for the useful tips though, I’m sure I can’t possibly fuck this up now, having had such absolute wisdom shat all over me.” She rolls her eyes, standing from her nest and making her way towards her bathroom. 

“I’m going to shower, there is pancake mix in the pantry. Don’t make a mess,” she says over her shoulder, noticing from the corner of her eye the offended look that settles on Ravens face.

“I want waffles, Clarke. Pancakes are for the mediocre. Waffles are the food of champions”

“…then put the pancake mix in the waffle maker?”

Raven stares vacantly at Clarke before mumbling something imperceptible. She grabs a hold of a chuckling Octavia, dragging her downstairs while Clarke watches on in complete confusion. 

_“Pancakes are the motherfucking shit.”_

_____________________

Clarke joins her friends a few minutes later, walking in to see half the contents of the kitchen strewn across the benches and floor, and her friends arguing in the centre of it all.

“Raven, you can’t put pineapple in waffles, it’s not what nature intended for waffles.”

“You said that about maple syrup on peanut butter toast, too, but look at you now, always eating it, taking credit for _MY_ creation.”

“When have I ever told anyone that it was my idea? _Why_ would I say it was my idea? It’s absolutely mental.”

“It is _delicious_ , hoe, and you need to start giving me and my food expertise the appreciation we deserve.”

“Clarke! Back me up, pineapple does not belong in waffles, right?”

Clarke stares, confused, at her friends, then at the mess that they have managed to surround themselves with. 

“…what did you guys do to the kitchen?”

“I’m looking for pineapples, Clarke. For the waffles.”

“Raven, you are not putting pineapple in the waffles. You can have them on the side, and they’re in the fridge, you absolute coconut.”

“Coconut! Let’s put coconut in the waffles!”

“We don’t have coconut, just use the damn pancake mix.”

“Clarke. Please. Have some respect for waffles.”

“Then make them from scratch, I don’t care, but clean this up and do not, under any circumstances, put any bizarre fruit combo into the mix. The only acceptable fruit is blueberries.”

“But Clarke-“

“NO PINEAPPLE IN THE WAFFLES, RAVEN.”

Raven pouts as she goes about limply grabbing the things they will need for the waffle batter, Octavia trying to suppress her laughter while putting away the rest of the food. She turns to Clarke expectantly, one eyebrow raised.

“…are you going to help or are your children also your maids?”

Clarke rolls her eyes, mirroring Octavia’s expression with an added unimpressed look.

“First, you are not my children. Stop saying it, it feels weird. Second, I’m gonna go apologise to my neighbour because I don’t think I can cope with it hanging over my head all day.”

“You mean the neighbour that absolutely _destroyed_ your ass the last time you spoke to her because you tried to yell at her over _pancakes_ , Clarke?” Raven piped up from her place at the counter, as happy as ever in her pursuit to remind Clarke of her embarrassment as many times as humanly possible as she carelessly pours flour into a large bowl and smiles mischievously as a cloud explodes up from the bowl.

“…that would be the one. Unless there is another neighbour I pissed off, because I would rather apologise to literally _anyone_ else… she scares me.”

Raven and Octavia laugh at their wide-eyed friend as she fidgets with her tank top. 

“Fine, go. We shall have breakfast ready if you return.”

“…what do you mean if?!”

“I think Octavia means that even from across the street, that girl looks strong. And good with a wrench.”

“Best of luck Clarkey,” Octavia says, ushering Clarke towards the front door, bending to pick up her shoes on the way, “we hope you return swiftly and in one piece but, if you shan’t-“

“Pretty sure shan’t isn’t a word-“

“IF YOU SHAN’T! We will miss you dearly,” Octavia finishes, pushing Clarke out the door and throwing her shoes at her before giving a small wave. 

Clarke huffs, turning around to pick up her shoes and put them on as she hears the door lock behind her.

_“Great, I’ll need to knock to get into my own house.”_

She walks across the street, hands still playing with the hem of her tank top, and heads for the open garage, where she sees her neighbour now laying on a skateboard as she works on the underside of an old ute. 

_“Okay Clarke, you got this. This is easy. I’ll smash this out like no other. Easy peasy. Definitely something I can do. Absolutely. Not hard at all. Not even in the slightest. I will dominate this apol-“_

“If you’ve come to yell at me about waffles, I recommend you don’t.”

Clarke jumps as the voice from underneath the car interrupts her rambling train of thought, stopping her in her tracks as her planned apology slips from her memory.

“…how did you know we were having waffles?”

The girl slides out from under the car, giving Clarke a cold stare as she spits out a short “just a guess,” then slides back to resume working. 

Clarke stares blankly for a few moments, trying to figure out how to continue with this conversation in the same way she had originally planned. 

“Are you just gonna stand there or do you have something to complain about, princess?”

“Don’t call me princess.”

“Alright, princess.”

“I just said not to-“

“What do you want, Griffin,” comes the annoyed sigh. From beneath the car, the girl reaches for another tool from an organised box, full of items that Clarke has no understanding or awareness of. 

Clarke takes a deep breath to control her racing heart and calm her flushed face. 

_“Of course this has already turned to absolute shit.”_

“I wanted to apologise for yesterday. I understand that my own jumpiness isn’t your fault and I had no… logical reason to…” Clarke pauses.

“How do you know my name?”

The girl slides from under the car once more, reaching for a rag to clean her hands as she stands and walks towards Clarke. 

She stops a few feet away, calmly watching Clarke run through yesterdays events to see if she ever revealed her name.

“…I never… I never told you my name.”

“You live across the street. Your mailbox has ‘Griffin Residence’ written in gold cursive. You can see the obnoxiousness from here.”

“…oh. Well, what’s your name?”

“And why would I tell you my name?” 

“Well, it’s only fair. You already know mine, I should know yours.”

“So now you want to go about formalities? You’ve already skipped a few steps to this whole thing. Seems a bit redundant to backtrack, don’t you think?”

Clarke takes in another breath, trying her best to not aggravate the stranger any further than she has already managed to, _twice_ , and gives a small smile as she extends her arm out.

“I’m Clarke Griffin. It’s nice to meet you and I would like to formally welcome you to the neighbourhood.” 

Her smile wavers as the girl just stares, eyes getting colder the longer Clarke keeps her arm extended. She starts to drop her arm, tilting her head towards the ground and shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

Her head shoots back up when the stranger does one of those exhales that are almost a laugh, but not quite. She stares as the girl shakes her head with a disbelieving smile, walking towards her in the same way she had yesterday.

_“Of fuck, not again. What did I do this ti-”_

“Of course you don’t remember. Actually, I’m not too sure why I’m so surprised.”

“…what?”

“I’m only gonna say this one more time, _princess_. Go back to your castle, and leave me the fuck alone,” she says, voice dangerously low as she continues to stalk towards Clarke who, this time, is refusing to step back.

“I don’t want to be friends.” A step.

“I don’t even want to be neighbours.” Another step.

“I just need you to understand,” one more step, “that I don’t give a single fuck about you, or your apology.” Her face now only a few inches away from Clarkes, she bends down slightly, lip curling as she glares into Clarkes wide eyes.

“Shove it up your ass, princess. And leave me the _fuck_ alone.”

She stands there for a few moments, watching Clarke tremble and search her face for any sign that this could be fixed. When she turns and walks away, shoulders hunched, Clarke releases a breath. 

She watches as the girl sits back down on the skateboard, examining the toolbox for the item she needed. 

“…can I at least get your name so when my friends ask me how hard you shut me down, _again_ , I don’t have to keep coming up with different words to reference who you are?”

The girl looks up, staring at her with an expression Clarke couldn’t quite place. She appeared to be thinking, eyes narrowing slightly as decides how to respond to Clarke’s strange request. She sighs softly, looking away and grabbing a wrench.

“…Lexa.” She lays down and slides back under the car, leaving Clarke to feel somewhat satisfied with receiving something other than cold hatred.

She walks back across the street, replaying the second unsuccessful encounter with Lexa.

_“Lexa… what the fuck, Lexa, I was trying to rectify my wrongs.”_

She goes to open the door to her house, hitting into it as the door refuses to open.

“Goddamn it, Octavia, open the fucking door!”

“You gotta say pleeeeeaasseeee,” comes the sing-song response from further inside the house.

_“God fucking dammit.”_

______________________

“What do you mean it happened again?” Octavia stares incredulously as they all sit to eat the ridiculous stacks of waffles before them.

Clarke sighs, head in her hands as she plays through her most recent fuck up.

“I went over there, she was all like _“what do ya want, princess?”_ and I was like don’t call me princess then she did it again then I was like _“what did I just say?”_ but then she called me Griffin and it took me a while to realise that I hadn’t given her my name and then she was all like _“I can see the obnoxiousness of your mailbox from here,”_ then I asked what her name was and she was like _“and why would I tell you?”_

She takes a deep breath, her friends watching her intently as they slowly chew on their waffles. 

“Then I was like _“well you know mine, I should know yours,”_ and then she yelled at me about formalities and skipping steps because, you know, pancake incident, and so I tried to formally introduce myself with a handshake and everything-“

“You never do handshakes,” Raven interrupts, mouth full of the pineapple that sits in a large bowl next to her plate.

 _“I know, right?!_ So then she just gets all angry and was like _“Of course you don’t remember”_ and I was like _“what?”_ and then she got super up in my space, again, and told me, _again_ , to go back to my castle and leave her alone, but then I was like _“Can I get your name so when my friends laugh at me about this we don’t have to come up with different things to refer to you as,”_ and then she gave me this weird look and said her name was Lexa.”

Completely out of breath, Clarke slumps further into her seat, slamming her forehead down onto her folded arms and groans. Raven and Octavia look at each other, unsure as to how they should approach this. Raven shrugs before shoveling another forkful of pineapple into her mouth and receiving an eyeroll from Octavia.

“…Lexa is a nice name.”

“It is,” comes Clarkes muffled reply, face still firmly planted on her forearms. 

“…what did she mean, “you don’t remember?”

“I don’t knowww.”

“…Clarke, how the fuck?”

“I don’t know!” She lifts her head and throw her arms in the air, “I just wanted to apologise for my pistachio ass and then I somehow pissed her off, _again!_ What did I even do? Like, I don’t even know what I said or did that got her so angry again!” She falls back in the chair, sinking down until only her face is visible to her friends. 

“…so, is every interaction you have with her gonna be like this? Because, honestly, this is pretty funny.”

“Raven!”

“What?! You gotta admit, this is pretty funny, Octavia.”

Clarke groans as she sinks further down into the chair, almost sitting on the floor under the table. They all sit in silence for a few minutes, Raven and Octavia eating their breakfast while Clarke continues to groan under the table.

“Hey, you said she was eighteen, right?”

“…yes?”

“So what if she is going to our school this year?”

“Shit Raven, you’re right. Clarke-“ 

A loud thump and a hiss come from under the table. Clarke appears quickly, rubbing the top of her head as she stares, panicked, at her friends.

“No no no no! Fucking no, what if she is? She would be in our grade and in our _classes_ and at our _school_ and, and… and _at our school!_ ”

“You said that twice Clarke.”

“Octavia! What am I gonna do? I’d see her constantly and _every time_ I would get absolutely shat on and noooooooo,” she lets her head fall onto the table, fingers rapidly tapping the tabletop as she sways back and forth.

“…you could try to apologise again?”

“RAVEN!”

__________________

Later that evening, after her friends had left and her parents had come home from work and turned in for the night, Clarke sat on her bed, staring out her window to the house across the street. With the garage now closed, she can only see a few lights on throughout the house, and the occasional shadow of movement. 

_“What the fuck am I gonna do?”_

She watches as the odd car drives past, taking in the way the headlights cast shadows all over the street. 

_“What am I supposed to remember?”_

She rubs at her face, pulling the curtain shut as she slumps back onto her bed.

_“Have we met before? I’m sure I would remember eyes like that.”_

She plays back the conversation, remembering the cold hatred that burned in Lexas eyes as she stared her down. Those green eyes like a fire, pushing Clarke back and rendering her unable to move or speak.

_“…what did I do to those eyes?”_

She chews on her lip, thinking on the probability that she would see Lexa at school.

_“She is already eighteen though, so she might have just graduated… maybe? God, I fucking hope so.”_

She lays on the bed and stares up at the ceiling, painting the constellations in her mind as the glow in the dark stickers reflect in her eyes. 

_“What if she is at school, though? Summer is over in four days… I have four days to try and make this better.”_

She looks towards the window once more, the curtains obscuring any detail, but still letting the light and shadows through. 

_“…or I could just leave her the fuck alone and hope I never have to see her again.”_

She sighs, closing her eyes and trying to ignore the flashes of cold green that burn on the inside of her eyelids.

_“…yeah. Let’s do that.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw, I have made an instagram account where I post memes I make and such because I am the master of procrastination. Give me a follow and talk to me, I like having friends: @the.unprofessional.writer


	5. Homeroom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5 is here! I wrote this almost entirely in the last 1.5hrs so forgive any mistakes and its somewhat short length.
> 
> Also! I would like to clarify that I am actually Australian, so my entire understanding for American highschool and such comes exclusively from media, hence the vagueness and/or completely incorrectness of terms and occurrences (like, is there even homeroom in America? What do you call your classrooms? I need to know now, I'm questioning everything and I had to just give the classroom a generic number. How damn boring is just 'Room 7').
> 
> Enjoy!

It was wishful thinking, really. The last four days of summer flew by, spending it by the pool, in front of the tv, or locked away in her room in front of her easel. The whole time, green eyes flashed through her mind, never giving her a restful minute, and reminding her of the very real possibility that herself and Lexa will be classmates. 

Clarke had seen Lexa only once in the last four days. Her parents asked her to collect the mail and, while doing so, Lexa just so happened to be arriving back home on her motorbike. Clarke had sent Lexa a small wave, receiving nothing in return except an air of indifference and mild annoyance.

And now, walking into school, the first day of her final year, she sees a very familiar motorbike in the parking lot, and feels herself pale at the prospect of constantly being glared at by her broody neighbour. 

She had tried to think of ways to apologise, _again,_ but nothing seemed good enough. So, she thought of ways to be neutral on the matter, working on her look of indifference but giving up on that when she felt herself get nauseous every time, because she realised that she _deserved_ this, and that she didn’t want to seem like an even bigger asshole. 

Clarke sees Raven at her locker, directly next to her own, and makes her way over to deposit her belongings and to express her horror over her worst nightmare coming true. 

“Raven. I have a problem.”

Raven laughed and looked at Clarke with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“That you do. And you have _no_ idea, just how big a problem you’re gonna have.”

“…what do you mean? Raven, what do you know?!”

Raven laughs again, spotting Octavia and her brother Bellamy and waving them over.

“So, I heard you have a problem, Clarke,” Bellamy says, a smirk playing on his lips as Octavia fails to hide her laughter and as Clarke groans and drops her head against her locker.

“What are you guys not telling me?” Her suspicions grow when Monty and Jasper pop up from behind her, immediately poking at her and bombarding her with questions.

“So how many times exactly did you get your ass handed to you?”

“Just how green _are_ her eyes?”

“What did you do to receive so much unbridled hatred from a-“

“Jasper I swear, if you finish that question, I will have to bury you in the mud under the bleachers.” Clarke lifts her head from against her locker, turning to glare at the boy with the chemistry goggles permanently perched on his head and at his best friend hiding behind him. 

She rubs her hands across her face, cradling her cheeks as she looks helplessly at Octavia, who is intently focused on something behind her. It’s Bellamy that bends down to whisper a “good luck, princess,” before he grabs the still giggling friends and his sister and walks away. 

Clarke, confused, looks to Raven for answers, eyebrows furrowed and hands still cradling her cheeks. Instead of finding a smirking Raven, as she had expected, she sees her friend with both eyebrows raised, looking past Clarke even more intently than Octavia had.

She jumps when she hears books be thrown into the locker on her other side, spinning around to see the sharp jaw that had snapped at her twice in the last week. 

_“Oh my fuck.”_

“Hi, I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Raven, Raven Reyes. Science extraordinaire and Arkadia’s resident nuisance.” 

Clarke sees a hand extend over her shoulder, Lexa turning to look past Clarke and raise an eyebrow at a grinning Raven. Without accepting the hand extended to her, she simply nods and says a curt “Lexa.”

Raven glances at Clarke, still staring at Lexa in a mixture of confusion and fear, and nudges her in the ribs with her elbow.

“I’ll see you in English, Clarke,” she says, more chipper than she usually is, mischievous grin plastered on her face and leaning in closer to her ear to add, “try not to make it three for three.” 

Clarke closes her eyes and sighs deeply as a chuckling Raven brushes past her and makes her way to homeroom, looking over her shoulder and enthusiastically throwing up a double thumbs-up. She turns back to Lexa, who is still arranging her locker, brow furrowed and lips pursed.

_“This could be my chance.”_

“Do you need help finding your way to homeroom?” She is cautious, trying to look and sound casual as she leans against her locker, bag hanging off one shoulder and staring all too intently at Lexas open locker door.

She hears a sigh, chancing a look at Lexa to see her jaw clenched and eyes closed. She opens them with a small huff, looking at Clarke from the corner of her eye and muttering her homeroom class.

“Room 7.”

_“Oh no.”_

“Are… are you sure?” Lexa turns to face her, cold eyes annoyed and unimpressed.

“I can read, princess. Homeroom, 8:30am, Room 7.” Clarke replays Ravens vague comment from earlier, now understanding how her problem is bigger than she initially thought. She shuts her eyes and takes a deep breath.

_“Thanks for the heads up, Raven.”_

“That’s uh… that’s my homeroom too. I’ll… take you there?” She shifts the bag on her shoulder, looking anywhere but at Lexa during the long pause that follows. She jumps when the locker slams, turning quickly to Lexa.

Clarke stares at her for a while, taking in the strong features that create the menacing figure in front of her. Lexa leans in slightly, eyebrows raised and eyes expectant.

“So… are you gonna show me the way or are you just gonna stare at me blankly until we’re both late?” Clarkes eyes widen, shaking her head and shifting her bag once more.

“Uh yeah, right. It’s uh… it’s this way.” She walks along toward the hall, taking a left and entering the first room on the right, along the back wall of the school. She stops just inside the door, turning to Lexa, passive as ever, and nudges her head towards the window at the very back of the classroom that looks out to the field.

“All the freshmen are expected to sit at the front, and everyone has already claimed their seats, so there’s only gonna be one spare.”

“And let me guess. It’s next to you?” Clarke cringes at the resigned distain dripping from Lexas words, giving a small nod and leading the way to the table. She places her bag on the desk and sits, sinking low in her chair and tilting her head back to look at the ceiling with another sigh. She feels the vibrations through the table as Lexa does the same, placing her bag on the table and placing her feet on its metal frame as she sits casually. 

They sit in silence for a few minutes, watching as more students filter in through the door, each making beelines to their claimed seats and chatting away with friends. 

_“This is so fucking awkward. What am I supposed-“_

“Clarkey!! How’s it been going? I haven’t seen you for ages!” Clarke is taken from her thoughts by Luna, standing in front of her table with her signature leather jacket and combat boots. She smiles, standing to hug her friend.

“Luna, hey! How was LA?”

“It was amazing! So much sun and too many people, I loved it. How was everything here? Did I miss anything interesting?”

Clarke thinks on the lack of interesting things that happened over the summer, Lexa being the exception, of course.

“Nah, same old. Arkadia isn’t really one for change now, is it?” Luna lets out a loud laugh at that, nodding her agreement before looking past Clarke and at Lexa.

“Hi there, I’m Luna. I haven’t seen you around before, have I?”

Lexa looks up from her timetable that she had been intently studying. A hand is once again extended to her, and she looks it and Luna over. Clarke watches, ready to explain to Luna that Lexa isn’t one for introductions, when Lexa stands and accepts the hand, smiling softly.

“Lexa. I just moved to Arkadia about a week ago.”

Clarke stares at Lexa, mouth agape, taking in the familiar smile that she hadn’t seen at all that week.

_“What the actual fuck?”_

“Lexa, nice to meet you. I guess something interesting did happen, aye Clarkey?” Luna turns to Clarke with an excited smile, hand still in Lexas. Clarke takes in a sharp breath, smiling weakly and giving a small shrug. 

“So, have you actually met Clarke, Lexa? Or was this just the only spare seat?” Luna continues, finally dropping Lexas hand and watching her face closely. Clarke watches in horror as Lexa swallows and looks quickly at her from the corner of her eye.

_“Oh sweet Jesus, no.”_

“We’re neighbours. And she is a familiar face so, figured she would be the person to show me around. For now, anyway.”

“Oh, that’s sweet! Well if you need another person to show you around, let me know. I’d be happy to do it.” Luna gives Lexa one last smile before turning and making her way to her seat. Lexa, eyebrows slightly raised, sits back down, turning to face a very stunned Clarke. 

“…Yes?”

“I didn’t know you smiled.”

“Just because I don’t smile at you, doesn’t mean I don’t smile.”

“And why don’t you smile at me, again? Beside the pancake incident. Which I did, for the record, try to apologise for.”

“Well you didn’t apologise very well now, did you?”

“…is it because you both wear leather jackets and combat boots?”

That earns her a confused look.

“Like… is it a solidarity thing? A… leather… thing…?”

Clarke sighs, _again,_ leaning back in her chair and staring at the front of the class. 

_“Fuck this.”_

“I’m seriously trying here, Lexa. I _tried_ to apologise. I’m _trying_ to help you out now. I’m _trying, so hard,_ to figure out what I did that was so terrible to get you to hate me so deeply.” She looks at Lexa, who is once again shooting a glare her way.

“Can you just tell me what I have to do so this isn’t gonna be completely awkward for the rest of the year?”

She wasn’t expecting Lexa to laugh. Actually laugh. It was soft, but it was definitely a laugh.

_“What is happening?”_

“You _seriously_ still don’t remember?” Clarke stares at an amused Lexa, wondering when this turned into a joke.

“Uhhh, no?”

Lexa shakes her head, turning to the front of the class when a teacher walks in.

“You should. Then again, with how self-absorbed you are, I’m really not surprised.”

“You don’t even _know_ me, Lexa. What makes you think I’m self-absorbed? Because of the pancakes? Again, I _apologised._ ”

“I don’t need you to apologise over fucking pancakes, Clarke.” Lexa snapped, clicking the ‘k’ in her name and making Clarkes skin crawl. Clarke opens her mouth to ask what that was supposed to mean, when she hears Ms. Vie’s scolding tone.

“Mr. Collins. It’s the first day, how can you already be late to class?”

“I’m all about consistency, Miss. Keep the bar low, you know?” Ms. Vie shakes her head, telling him to take his seat and goes back to sorting out papers on her desk.

The boy makes his way to the table next to Clarke, giving her a smirk as he passes.

“Morning, princess. How’s it going?”

“I’ve told you, Finn, don’t call me princess.”

“C’mon, princess, it’s all in good fun.” He runs his hands through his shaggy hair, leaning back in his chair to send a smile at Lexa.

“I haven’t seen you before.” Clarke sends an unamused look to Finn, turning to excuse his behaviour to Lexa when she sees the same glare that has been directed at her all week, now directed at him. 

“Lexa.”

“…okay, nice to meet ya Lexa. I hope princess here has shown you around. This school is pretty big.”

“I’ll be fine, thanks.” Clarke notices the clenched jaw and flared nostrils.

 _“Okay, so at least I’m not the only one she hates.”_ She frowns, though.

_“… but why does she hate Finn? I mean, there’s kinda a reason for her to hate me… but she literally just met the guy?”_

She takes a chance, scooching slightly towards Lexa and leaning in.

“…what did he do? I mean, he is a bit of a dick, but he really is harmless.” She receives another cold glare, her response given through gritted teeth.

“Same thing you did.”

“ _…what?_ ” She stares at Lexas profile, wondering what the hell she did, and how Finn had already done the same thing in the 45 seconds she had known him. 

“…and what was that exactly?”

“Okay students, welcome to the new school year!” Ms. Vie addresses the class, interrupting Clarke’s desperate attempt to figure out what her and Finn had in common.

_“Ew.”_

“We obviously have a few new faces in our homeroom, so if the freshmen would just like to introduce themselves to the class?”

Clarke turns back to Lexa once the younger kids start nervously introducing themselves, putting her hand on her right arm and once again noticing the thin white line that cuts across the back of that hand as she whispers.

“Would you just tell me what I did? What I’m supposed to remember?”

“Hands. Off. Griffin.” Clarke ignores the warning, watching Lexas jaw flex repeatedly as she grinds her teeth together.

“Just tell me, Lexa. How am I supposed to fix it if I don’t know what it is I did?”

“You should remember.”

“Well I’m sorry, but I don’t. My memory was never very good so I would greatly appreciate a refresher.”

Clarkes hand remains on Lexas arm, where she feels how tense the muscles underneath are. Lexa says nothing, staring daggers at the whiteboard at the front of the classroom.

“Lexa, just-“

“And it looks like we also have a new senior with us!” Clarke groans at being interrupted again, slumping back in her seat and throwing her head back as Ms. Vie addresses Lexa.

“Alexandria, is it?”

“ _…what?_ ” She brings her head back down sharply, staring first at Ms. Vie to make sure she was indeed addressing Lexa, then turning to a very tense Lexa.

“Lexa, actually.”

_“Alexandria?”_

“Oh, sorry my paper says Alexandria Woods. You prefer Lexa then, yes?”

“ _Woods?_ ” Clarke frowns, the name feeling so familiar. She studies Lexa, watching her reaction and trying to place the name.

“I do, yes. Only Lexa, please.”

“That’s fine, Lexa. Welcome to Arkadia, I hope you have settled in nicely.”

Lexa turns to Clarke slowly, not taking her eyes off her as she responds to Ms. Vie.

“It’s good to be back.”

Clarkes frown deepens as their teacher moves on and begins the usual first day announcements. She searches Lexas eyes and finds a challenge in them. 

_“Alexandria Woods… she was here before?”_

She analyses Lexas face, taking in the soft brown curls, delicate lips, strong features and green eyes. 

The green-est eyes.

_“…did we go to school together before?”_

Her eyes wander from Lexas face, surveying her clothes and her arms and her hands. Her eyes rest on the scar.

_“…that scar…”_

Her eyes widen.

_“Wait.”_

Her eyes dart back up to the green eyes daring her to remember. Clarke looks back to the scar, flicking between it and the eyes that have been haunting her for the past week.

_“… Alexandria Woods.”_

She gasps, watching as Lexa smirks and slowly lifts her right hand, blocking half her face from Clarkes view. 

“Alexandria Woods…” she breathes out the words, bringing a hand to her mouth as she sinks further into her chair.

“Nice of you to remember me, princess.”

_“This can’t be happening.”_

Clarke buries her face in her hands, shaking her head as her eyes burn and throat stings.

_“Fucking, no.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun duuuuunnnnnnn
> 
> Lemme know your thoughts! And come chat to me on instagram if ya want (or just look at the memes I make): @the.unprofessional.writer


	6. Fucking No

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year my dudes! Heres to a great year full of happiness, health, and success!
> 
> I just wanna thank everyone so much for supporting this fic, it honestly means so much! I'm sorry I didn't respond to any comments on the last chapter, I read the comments through my email and then forget to respond most of the time, and then things got busy with Christmas and New Year.
> 
> If you guys wanna talk to me and actually get a response, I have an insta (mostly for memes and looking at that sweet gay shit): @the.unprofessional.writer
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter, covering a very small portion of the aftermath of Clarkes realisation.
> 
> Cheers!

_“Fucking, no.”_

Clarke struggles to breathe as the world continues to move around her. She hears the muffled movement of the other students, the murmurs of conversation and the vibrations of the school bell travelling through the desk. 

_“No no no no.”_

She lifts her head from her hands, eyes red from unshed tears, turning to Lexa to find her already up and moving towards the door. 

_“This cannot be fucking happening.”_

She jumps up from her seat, flinging her bag onto one shoulder and chases Lexa to the door, reaching her just as she goes to turn the corner and grabs her arm to bring her back inside the classroom. 

“Lexa, just wait a second, please.” 

She’s begging. She doesn’t remember every feeling this desperate, desperate enough to beg. She shifts uncomfortably as the other students exit the room, tensing when Luna passes and tells Lexa she will see her around. 

When they are finally alone, she turns back to Lexa, her ever passive expression causing more discomfort and anxiety than if she were furious. She takes a few breaths, trying to swallow the lump in her throat as she stares into those empty green eyes.

“Lexa… I am _so_ sorry. I never meant for all that to happen, I just… I don’t even know what I was doing but I am _so fucking sorry_.”

Lexa stares at her vacantly, not showing any reaction to Clarkes plead. 

“Lexa… please. I cannot say sorry enough, I _really_ never meant for any of that, you didn’t deserve it. You were just being nice, and I was a complete fucking asshole, I’m so sorry.” Clarke lowers her head as she takes in a shaky breath, staring at her feet and hoping that her eyes would just _stop burning_.

She waits to be yelled at. To have her ass handed to her so hard she would carry it with her to her grave. She even prepared herself to get hit, because, really, why didn’t she deserve that too?

What she was not expecting, was a laugh. 

_“What is it with this girl and laughing whenever I try?”_

“You’re laughing. Why are you laughing?”

“Because desperation doesn’t suit you, princess.” She starts to turn around, heading for the door, before Clarke aggressively yanks her back.

“Lexa, I’m fucking _trying_! I am so _fucking_ sorry, and you’re acting as if that doesn’t even matter!”

“That’s because it doesn’t,” she snaps, bringing herself closer to Clarke, who still has a firm grip on her forearm. She looms over her, advancing on her like she has every time Clarke has tried to apologise, backing her further into the room until the back of her legs hit a desk. 

“Your apology means shit, princess. It doesn’t change anything. I was still bullied, I was still _attacked_ , I was still _forced_ to leave my home, _all because_ some entitled, _arrogant_ little blonde shit thought it would be funny to call be a lesbian.” She places both her hands on the desk, on either side of Clarkes body, bringing herself face to face with a glassy-eyed, trembling Clarke.

“You can keep apologising, _princess_ , but it doesn’t change the fact that you ruined everything. It doesn’t change _anything_.” She scoffs, a bitter sound accompanied with a dangerous smirk. 

“You have _no idea_ just how much that fucked up my life, and you really think that a shitty apology, twelve years later, will just magically fix it all? How arrogant can you get?”

Clarke flinches with every venomous word spat at her, curling in on herself the closer Lexa gets. She is mere inches away, Clarke able to feel her breath on her face and see every ounce of the burning hatred within her eyes.

“Listen closely, princess,” she leans in even closer, Clarke leaning as far away as she can while trapped against the table, “I want nothing to do with you. I don’t want your help, I don’t want your friendship, I don’t want your apology. Shove it down your throat with the rest of the shit you keep there, and _leave me the fuck alone_.”

And then she is gone, striding out the door and down the hall. 

Clarke stands there, shaking, chest tight and throat closing. She walks, numb, to the closest bathroom, pulling out her phone and sending a short text. She leans against the sinks, quietly grasping for breath. And waits. 

____________________

“Clarke? You in here?” Raven rounds the partition at the entrance of the bathroom, immediately seeing a very panicked looking Clarke.

“Clarke? What’s wrong?” She hurries over to her friend, grabbing both her arms and assessing her face. Her eyes are wide and glassy, silent tears streaming down her face as she takes short, staggered gasps.

“Clarke, you gotta breathe for me okay? Tell me what happened.” She is trying not to panic, but she had never seen Clarke like this. She was always the epitome of confidence, carrying herself with such carefree ease that seeing her so fragile and scared shook her completely. 

Clarke takes in a shaky breath, fumbling to grasp Ravens hands in her own. 

“It’s… it’s…” she shakes her head, annoyed at herself for not being able to form the simple statement that explains everything.

“It’s what, Clarke? C’mon, you’re scaring me, what happened?” Clarke stares into Ravens eyes, trying to convey the fear and regret that is consuming her.

“It’s her.” It is barely a whisper. Ravens brows furrow, confusion etched on her features as she leans back to take in the rest of Clarkes face, hoping that it would give her some more insight.

“What do you mean? Who?”

“Lexa.”

“…okay? Clarke, I still don’t know what you mean.” Ravens phone chimes, she quickly checks it and types quickly as Clarke pulls away from her to pace around the bathroom.

“Lexa is her, Raven!”

“And who is ‘her’, Clarke?”

“HER! HER, SHE IS HER!” She’s frantic now, pacing quickly while throwing her arms aggressively in the air, gesturing to the bathroom door and then threading her fingers through her hair. Raven just stares, trying to remain calm so as to not aggravate Clarke further.

“Clarke… I _don’t know_ what that means.”

Clarke makes a noise somewhere between a huff and a growl, continuing her pacing while chewing on the fingernail of her thumb. 

Raven hears the bathroom door open, Clarke too preoccupied with whatever it is she is pacing for, and sees Octavia round the corner. Octavia stops, staring confused at a perplexed Raven and a pacing Clarke, before making her way over to Raven.

“So what’s happening, exactly?”

“I honestly do not know. She keeps saying ‘it’s her’, but I don’t know what that means.” Octavia tilts her head to the side, staring at the floor as her mind runs in circles trying to figure out what that could mean.

“Clarke?” She fails to get her attention, Clarke continuing to chew on her nail and mumble to herself.

“Clarke, stop.” Again, her attention remains elsewhere, her pacing only appears to intensify as time passes. With a huff, Octavia strides into Clarkes path, colliding with her and grabbing her firmly by the biceps.

“Clarke! What happened?” Clarkes wide eyes dart to Octavias, quickly brimming with more tears as she grabs one of her forearms.

“It’s her, Octavia.” She stares into confused eyes, hoping beyond all else that she understands.

“Who is ‘her’, Clarke?”

“Lexa.”

“Lexa?”

“…Alexandria.”

“Alex… oh god,” Octavias eyes widen as she lets go of Clarke to cover her mouth with one hand and hug her middle with the other, “it’s her.”

Raven stares between her two panicking friends, hopelessly trying to figure out what was happening. 

“Holy shit, Clarke, this is why she has been so short-tempered with you! Holy fuck, why is she back? After all this time, why would she come back for senior year?”

“I don’t know! She just… she… she has that scar on her hand, Octavia! I saw it the first time I spoke to her and it just never clicked!”

“She doesn’t even look that different Clarke, what the fuck?! She always had those big green eyes and that wild hair, how the _fuck_ did we not see this?”

“Because we’re fucking assholes, Octavia! Well, I’m the main asshole, you’re like the secondary asshole,” Clarke turns and throw her hands up once again, the exaggerated gesture almost comical as she rapidly spins back around, her eyes somehow even wider. “Octavia, our whole group of friends are like a giant asshole cluster! Holy shit we were the ones that really made this bad! Oh shit, oh no, oh fuck!”

Raven, having watched the scene unfold and grow more annoyed as it developed, interrupts the frantic pair with raised arms and a stern voice.

“Alright, can you guys _please_ tell me what the fuck is going on? Who is Lexa? Or Alexandria? What’s this about a scar?” Between Clarke and Octavia, the latter is the first to realise why Raven isn’t freaking out with them.

“Shit, you only showed up in ninth grade, I keep forgetting… you know how you called Clarke a fucking pistachio with huge dumbass energy a few days ago?”

“You mean after she tried to yell at a stranger over pancakes?”

“Yes, thank you, none of us have forgotten why I did that. Before that, though,” Clarke mumbles, picking at her lip as she stares into space.

“…what do you mean before that?” Raven turns to Octavia, knowing that she will explain this much better than Clarke will in her current state.

“How we said she never gets in trouble for anything. Even when she… _we_ … got that girl beat up.”

“Oh! The one Clarke called a lesbian just because she complimented her hair,” she points at Clarke an unamused look plastered on her face, “didn’t pick you for a homophobe, Clarke.”

“I’m not! I mean, I don’t think I am? No, it was just my grandparents, they’re complete assholes and I constantly heard them throw that kind of shit around.”

“…how do you not know if you’re a homophobe, Clarke?” Octavia asks, the panic of the last few minutes vanishing in an instant.

“Yeah, that’s a pretty ‘yes or no’ kind of thing, Clarke.”

“I’m not! I mean, I don’t even know anyone that is gay, how am I supposed to know?” Raven and Octavia share a stunned look, Raven once again turning to her impressive vocabulary to call Clarke out.

“You really are a fucking dumbass pistachio, you know that? You know heaps of gay people!”

“…I do?”

“Uh, yes?”

“…oh… who?”

“Oh for fuck sake Clarke, how ignorant are you? They’re not even subtle about it!”

“Yeah, literally all you have to do is _listen_ to people during our lunchbreak and you’ll realise a lot.”

“I just… I… can we get back to the main issue here, please? It’s her!” Raven rolls her eyes as she crosses her arms.

“I fail to see how you potentially being a homophobe isn’t the main issue! I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with Lexa, she clearly wants nothing to do with you! Why do you keep bringing her—” she stops, eyes widening as realisation sweeps over her, “—she’s the kid.” She turns to Octavia, watching her avert her eyes and nod slowly, then turns to Clarke, who is now staring into space as she sucks on her now bleeding lip. 

“It’s fucking her?! How the fuck did you not realise it was her?! Are you that fucking blind to anyone that isn’t you?!”

“Raven—”

“No! She _always_ gets away with everything, she needs to learn that the world doesn’t revolve around her!” She glares at a shrinking Clarke, her head tilted down to the floor, and points her finger accusatorily as she continues her rant.

“So not only do you fail to mention to me that you— _all of you_ —played a role in the _attack_ of a _child_ because you thought it would be _funny_ to use ‘lesbian’ as an insult, but you didn’t even _remember_ the girl whose life you basically ruined—”

“I didn’t ‘ruin’ it, I just—”

“SHE HAD TO FUCKING LEAVE TOWN, CLARKE! You turned everyone against a _six-year-old_ , and you think that that wouldn’t have made much of a difference in her life? That she would forget about it after a few weeks, come happily skipping back into your life and be your friend? You fucking DUMBASS!”

“Raven, we all fucked up, but we’ve grown since then, we aren’t the same as we were.”

“Oh, really? Are you _sure_ about that, Octavia? Because, unless I heard incorrectly, Clarke thinks she knows _zero_ gay people, and therefore how could she _possibly_ know if she is a homophobe or not?” Octavia flinches, sending an apologetic look to a shaking Clarke.

Clarke, leaning her entire weight against the bathroom sink, lifts her head to reveal a blotchy tear-stained face.

“I didn’t mean it,” she whispered, her voice raw and croaky. “And I just… never thought about it, Raven. About anyone I know being gay. It just… never really comes up and I dunno, I don’t even know how to tell. Just… who do I know that’s gay?” Her voice gets smaller as she continued, bracing herself for another onslaught from Raven.

“Well me, for one.”

“…I thought you had a crush on Wick before he graduated last year?”

“I’m bisexual, Clarke.”

“Oh… really?”

“Jesus Christ, Clarke,” Raven huffs shaking her head before tilting it up to the ceiling, “I _always_ comment on how hot I think girls are. _Every time_ we watch a movie, I say it about at least one girl.”

“You said it about the reporter from Iron Man just the other night.”

“Exactly! Just because I have never explicitly said it to you before, doesn’t mean that I have been hiding it either.” She stares at a frowning Clarke. “What, Clarke?”

“…I just didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t! You’re too caught up in your own petty problems to even listen to casual discussion!”

“Raven I just… how am I supposed to respond now?”

“What do you mean, how are you supposed to respond?”

“Like… with this? What happens now?” Raven stares at Clarke, completely at a loss for words. She lets out a short, bitter laugh, before turning and making her way to the door.

“Fuck you, princess.”

Octavia flinches as the door is slammed closed. She turns to a confused Clarke, giving her a cold, unimpressed look.

“…what?”

“How have you not grown since you were six?”

“…what do you mean?”

“You seriously just asked Raven, after she officially came out—for only the second time ever, mind you—what you’re supposed to do? As if it changes something?”

“Well… doesn’t it?”

“NO! IT DOESN’T! She is still the same Raven, now you just know that she likes kissing more than just guys! I’ve known for two years, and guess what? NOTHING HAS FUCKING CHANGED!”

“…why did she tell you and not me?”

“Because you’re you, Clarke,” Octavia says, an exasperated sigh leaving her lips, “you focus on yourself and that’s it. You’re also a bit of a chronic gossiper, and Raven never knew where you stood with these kinds of issues. She was out, but she wasn’t ready for the whole school to know. We still live in a small town, Clarke, the younger generations may have changed and now understand what the real issues are, but others still hold onto the opinions they got fifty years ago.”

“…I’m just… I’m just new to this, Octavia.”

“Yeah, well,” Octavia walks slowly walked backwards towards the door, her eyes tired and her shoulders sagging, “you better catch up to the rest of us, or you’re gonna be left behind.”

Clarke, now alone, tilts her head back to stare at the ceiling. She rubs at her face, groaning as she replays what happened in the last five minutes. 

_“Lexa is Alexandria. I got her bullied, beat up, and basically chased her out of town.”_

She sighs, wiping at her eyes and cheeks to stop the flow of tears.

_“I said that I don’t know if I’m a homophobe or not, like an absolute fucking douchebag, and am so oblivious that I truly believed that I don’t know anyone who is gay.”_

She turns to face the mirror, staring at the blotchy, pale face looking back at her with empty eyes.

_“I practically told Raven that her being bisexual changes things after almost forcing her to come out because I was too much of a self-absorbed dumbass to notice that, yeah, she did talk about girls quite a lot.”_

She splashes her face with cold water, leaning with both hands on the sink as she takes in a few deep breaths before she heads to class.

_“And then Octavia told me that if I don’t grow up and fix all of this, I’ll be on my own.”_

As hard as she tries, tears fall onto her cheeks once again. With trembling lips and shaking hands, she pushes off from the sink and whispers to herself:

“Yeah. I deserve this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, Raven snapped hard, how wild
> 
> Intsa: @the.unprofessional.writer


	7. A Few More Ass Handings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sup my peeps. Straight up, I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter, but it is needed to progress to better things.
> 
> I will say that yes, some things are left unexplained. But they WILL BE EXPLAINED. 
> 
> Again, I do read all your comments, I just suck at responding to them (I promise I will get better at that). Thank you for all the support so far, I truly appreciate it :-D
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy, leave you thoughts, and come chat to me on insta: @the.unprofessional.writer

To say Raven was angry would be an understatement. Usually during lunch Clarke, Octavia, and Raven would sit in a huddled mass while their friends would sit strewn across the grass around them. This time, though, Raven sat as far away from Clarke as possible, aggressively ignoring her existence as she animatedly discussed the latest developments in engineering with Jasper and Monty. 

Clarke sat, pouting, staring off across the field as conversation went on around her. 

After she had managed to stop herself from crying (or when she had run out of tears, but who was really paying attention) she made her way to English, which just so happened to be the only class she shared with both Raven and Octavia. Both had given her quite the cold shoulder, Raven ignoring her completely while Octavia did her best to mediate while also making her stance on the matter very clear. 

She was thankful to all the powers of the universe that she did not also share that class with Lexa, otherwise the already extremely awkward hour would have probably been the death of her. 

She did, however, share Maths with Lexa. What was already a painful (and compulsory) subject now also consisted of an icy presence that extended from the opposite side of the room. Clarke still didn’t know how Lexa managed to make her feel so hated without even paying her a single moment of attention.

Clarke had been the first out of the classroom, dedicated to avoiding another encounter with her broody and rightfully angry neighbour.

“What’s up with you, princess?” Clarkes attention quickly snapped to Bellamy, his soft smile catching her off guard.

_“Surely Octavia would have told him by now? They tell each other everything.”_

“Just… stuff.” He raised an eyebrow, not at all buying her horrible attempt at nonchalance. He scooted closer to her, Clarke now in between him and his sister.

“I’m serious, Clarke, what’s wrong?” Her eyes shifted to Raven for a moment. She swallowed thickly as she considered telling him what was happening, and maybe even asking him his advice. He had always been the voice of reason in the group, acting as the mature older brother for everyone even though he was only a few months older.

However, before she got the chance to decide, Octavia piped up from her other side.

“We yelled at her.” Bellamy squints, confusion covering his features as he looks past Clarke and at Octavia.

“What do you mean you yelled at her? You and who?” He quickly glances at Clarke with concern when a resigned groan rumbles at the back of her throat, and she drops her head into her hands. 

“Me and Raven. We yelled at her.”

“…and why did you yell at her.”

“I dunno. Clarke, why did we yell at you?” Octavia gives her a pointed look, daring her to confess, or challenging her to find a way out of this.

Clarke stares at her, taken aback by Octavias suddenly abrupt and punishing attitude. After a few stunned, silent moments, and with another not-so-encouraging nod from Octavia, Clarke turns back to Bellamy.

“Why did they yell at you, Clarke?” His voice has taken on a stern tone now, forever acting the dad. Clarke audibly gulps, taking in a huge breath before explaining in one, rant-filled breath.

“I found out that Lexa is Alexandria who is the girl I called a lesbian back in first grade and then I was panicking and asked Raven to come to meet me in the bathroom because I needed to share my panic but then she didn’t know what I meant because she wasn’t here for it so then she got Octavia to show up and she knew what I was talking about and she freaked out with me and then we explained to Raven and she got like _super_ pissed and then called me a homophobe and I said I don’t know if I’m a homophobe because I don’t know any gay people and then she was like “yes you do” and then refused to tell me but then she—” she paused only briefly after receiving a sharp elbow to the ribs and a furious look from Octavia, “—but then I was an even bigger ass and I was told to just listen to people because I’ve been told a lot recently that I am super self-absorbed and shit so now Raven isn’t speaking to me and Octavia is also mad at me and apparently I am the only one out of all our friends that hasn’t grown up.” 

The silence grows, broken only by Clarkes attempts at regaining her breath. She waits as she watches Bellamy process her word-vomit, the silence growing until it felt like it would consume her whole. She tries to focus on anything but the developing look of disappointment on Bellamys face, trying to tune into the conversations of her friends around her. 

But she hears nothing.

_“Oh shit.”_

She turns slowly to see her friends, silent, all regarding her with different expressions.

Raven just looks pissed, same as she was before, while Jasper and Monty share similar looks of shock, mouths agape and eyes wide. Next to them, Miller looks hurt, his dark features wary as he searches Clarkes face for answers. 

Harper wears a frown, minutely shaking her head as the creases in her forehead deepen, while both Emori and Murphy next to her each have one eyebrow raised and the faint look of disgust sitting on their lips. Even Finn looks uncomfortable as he tries to give Clarke a sympathetic look, though the sentiment doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“And that,” Octavia breaks the silence with a sarcastic smile and an exaggerated sweep of her arm, “is why we yelled at her.” 

The silence is thicker now, Clarkes face burning with embarrassment and shame as her friends continue to stare, no one apparently game enough to begin the heavy discussion that will inevitably end with Clarke having her ass handed to her.

And she just wanted to get that over with.

“…can someone please say something? I know I’m an ass, you guys can say it.”

“What the fuck, Clarke?” Jasper began. Clarke had never seen him so serious, and, honestly, the focus in his eyes was unsettling.

“Clarke, how could you _possibly_ not know if you were a homophobe? That’s not exactly something you have to try before you decide,” Emori asked, annoyance lacing her tone.

“Yeah, you’re not judging ice cream flavours, you’re either an ass or you’re not,” Murphy added, defensive as he tucks himself further under Emoris arm. 

Clarke sat as questions and jabs were thrown at her, all of her friends taking it in turns to basically ask ‘what the fuck?’

“Did you not think gay people actually existed Clarke? That they’re like unicorns?” Clarke winced as Harper spoke, curling in on herself and lowering her head with each comment. She looks up briefly to see both Monty and Miller just shaking their heads, anger evident in the two softest souls she knew. 

“That’s… really not cool Clarke.”

_“I can’t believe even smartass Finn is a better person than I am.”_

Her friends threw more at her the longer she didn’t respond, unable to think of anything to say to defend or explain herself that wouldn’t just make her seem even more oblivious than everyone now knew she was. With each verbal hit she felt herself breaking apart, crumbling as she realises more and more what an absolute _ass_ she is. 

Ravens stare hurt her the most, though. She remained silent, her expression a mixture of burning anger and pain.

She never realised how deeply ingrained some things were, because she felt herself getting defensive at first, feeling entitled to her opinion and like she should not be blamed for her lack of awareness. But then she questioned. And then she realised she had made no actual opinion by herself.

“Wait.”

She turned to Bellamy, his disappointment having turned to confusion as he stares at the grass with a frown. His eyes meet Clarkes as realisation dawns.

“Alexandria Woods? The one whose parents took her out of school in maybe the third week of first grade? _That_ Alexandria?”

“…yes?”

“That was _you_?” And suddenly his eyes were ablaze. “ _You were the one that started that whole thing_?”

“…yes.”

“Wait, this new girl is _that_ girl?” Jasper asked, him and everyone else finally processing the first part of Clarkes tangent. 

“Holy shit, I forgot about her.” Murphy said, Emori sharing a confused look with Miller as both Harper and Finn also made similar comments alluding to recollection.

Bellamy, furious and confused, looked around the group, taking in the remorseful expressions of most and the confused expressions of the few. His eyes land on Octavia, her wide eyes already set on him.

“You were a part of that too?”

A pause.

A nod.

_“Why?”_

“I don’t know, I was six! We all were!”

“Why exactly is that an excuse for you guys but not an excuse for me?” Clarke jumped in. “Why should I be the only one to get punished and hated for something that most of you took part in?”

“Because you started it?”

“Yeah but Finn, all of us jumping in was kind of the thing that made it an issue, right?” Harper looked around the group, receiving a number of nods and awkward shrugs. “If we didn’t spread it then it wouldn’t nearly have been as big of an issue.”

“It still would have been an issue, nonetheless, even if Clarke was the only one saying it.”

“I was _six_ , Raven! I didn’t know what I was saying!”

“Yet you never apologised, right?”

“I did this morning, when I _realised who she was_.”

“But how exactly did you not remember her? I mean, our grade was never very big, and it was quite a huge deal at the time, too.” Jasper winced at the groan that Clarke releases.

“ _I don’t know_ , okay? I’m an idiot, that has been pretty well established recently.”

“That being said, it’s not like Clarke had the chance to apologise. Lexa only just showed up again, after all.”

“Thank you, Finn”

“But still, you did start it all and maybe you should have reached out?”

“Goddamn it, Finn, how the fuck could I have possibly done that?”

“OKAY!” Bellamy interrupted the cacophony of questions and accusations, leaning back on his hands as he sits on the grass and stares up at the sky. “All of you that took part in the bullying of Lexa, raise your hand,” he demands carelessly.

Everyone shared a confused look, though Jasper, Murphy, Harper, Finn, Octavia, and Clarke all slowly raised their hands, nonetheless. 

“Okay. All of you owe her an apology. All of you were assholes, all of you should be held accountable.” A slew of ‘fair’s were mumbled around the group, along with Emori slapping up the back of Murphys head, and Jasper receiving a mumbled ‘what the fuck, man?’ from Monty.

“Yeah, you guys are fucking assholes,” Raven mumbled, arms crossed, and jaw clenched.

“I think you mean we _were_ assholes.”

“Shut up, Finn.”

“Clarke,” Bellamy continued, ignoring the soft bickering between Finn and Harper, “you were the orchestrater of a six-year-old being so severely bullied that her family up and moved her to god knows where. Regardless of your age, you still started something that had consequences I don’t think any of us completely understand, or are at least aware of at this point.” Clarke cowers under the stern look thrown her way. Bellamy always had a way of scolding people that left them ashamed and feeling in need of a complete revaluation of their life. 

“Additionally, you seem to be completely oblivious to the lives of even your closest friends.” Her head snapped up at that, confusion once again etched in her features. 

“oh…”

“Yes, ‘oh’. The fact that you have the same awareness of others and their feelings as you did when you were _six_ , is honestly embarrassing. You gotta fix that, Clarke.”

“…I don’t know how.”

“Well figure it out. We will be here when you do.”

And then the bell sounded, signalling the end of lunch. Everyone went about gathering their belongings and their bags, heading off to their respective classrooms with shoulders dropped slightly lower than usual. Bellamy extends a hand down to Clarke, helping her off the grass and giving her one more stern look before he turned to catch up with Raven.

Clarke sighs, once again having to process yet another ass handing, and slowly follows behind her friends. She sees Raven nudge Bellamy with her elbow, her teasing tone carrying across the distance between them.

“You should be like a counsellor. Or maybe a professor at some mid-level college.”

“Why not a top college?”

“Because I’ve seen your grades, mid-level is a great compliment.”

_______________________

The rest of the school day went by in a blur. Clarke was grateful that she only seemed to have the one class with Lexa, and that her friends, while still obviously judging her relatively harshly for her ignorance, remained quite neutral with her throughout the day. That being said, she already missed their playful jabs and gentle teasing that always got her through the day. 

_“I gotta figure this out.”_

She walked home from school, a casual thirty-minute walk that made her really question why she had never thought to learn to drive. She was the only one within her group of friends without her license, and usually one would always offer to give her a lift home, even if she was out of their way. Sure, the town was small, but it still didn’t make sense to make that much of a detour. But still, they offered. And she accepted every time. 

Now though, with the self-reflective journey she has been sent on by her friends, none of them had offered, and she realised it wasn’t really wise to ask. 

_“…I really do expect other people to do a lot for me, huh?”_

The summer sun made her clothes stick to her skin and her bag feel like a furnace against her back. She arrives at her street sweating, red-faced, and with the full intention to get her license as soon as her parents were free to take her.

_“…or maybe I'll just take myself. That works too.”_

She looks across the street as she reaches her driveway, seeing Lexa once again in the garage, this time working on her bike. For once, she thought better than approaching her, remembering the venomous words that were spat at her earlier that day. 

Lexa looked up from her position squatting in front of her bike, lifting a dark eyebrow. It was then that Clarke realised she must have been staring, so she does what any self-respecting person does when they have been caught.

Finger guns. 

_“Oh Jesus Christ.”_

She turns and quickly walks up to her front door, fumbling with her keys before opening it and slamming it behind her. She leans against the door, banging her head softly against it as she goes about regretting every decision of the last few days. 

“Clarke, you know people usually knock with their knuckles. And also from the other side of the door.”

Actually, let’s make that ‘regretting every decision _of her life_ ’. 

“Daaaaad. I done fucked up.”

“Welp. Probably. Now, what do you want for dinner? Your mother won’t be here until later, and I am already starving.” Jake wears a happy smile as Clarke squints at him, aggressively waving his arm in the direction of the kitchen and making a beeline for the fridge.

“I’m pretty sure we have some leftover lasagne, but I think we could do better.” Clarke comes to stand behind her father, whose head is currently comically deep in the fridge. 

“Dad.”

“Yes, oh daughter of mine?”

“Are you not gonna ask me what I did?”

“Yes. But first, dinner!” He turns, resting an arm on the top of the opened fridge door. “What do you want? I’m thinking homemade pizzas.”

“Dad!” He throws his head back and sags as he lets out a dramatic sigh.

“ _Fineee_. What did you do to ‘done fuck up’?” He brings his gaze back down to his daughter, timidly standing in the middle of the kitchen with her bag still on her back. She is playing with her fingers and chewing on her lip, staring out the kitchen window with watery eyes.

“Kiddo, what’s wrong? What happened?” Hearing her dad being serious always made things feel so much more real for Clarke. She met his eyes as a single tear escaped her own.

“I did something bad.”

______________________

Clarke lay on her bed, staring at the constellations stuck to her ceiling. Her eyes were dry and stinging, red around the edges, and completely empty.

She had never seen Jake so disappointed. He was always the gentler parent, serving as mediator and finding ways to teach, but not really discipline. Even when Abby got home, and Clarke told the story again, the anger that she received still didn’t hurt as much as the disappointment she saw in her fathers eyes. 

She was grounded. Which really, she found quite strange considering this was a punishment for something she did twelve years ago, but the embarrassment and scolding stung all the same.

She reached for her phone, opening up her conversation with Raven. She takes a few deep breaths, and begins to type.

It takes almost forty minutes before she hits send. She wanted to word it perfectly, and that took a lot more effort than she expected.

_“I really need to work on this whole apologising thing, too. It shouldn’t be this hard.”_

After another thirty minutes of staring at her ceiling and sorting through the events of the day, she made a few decisions. 

One, she was going to apologise to each of her friends. For always expecting so much from them (more than she ever realised) without giving very much back, and for her ignorance. She never realised how much she didn’t know about them.

_“I’m gonna fix that.”_

Two, she was going to do a whole lot of research into the LGBTQI+ community (she learnt that acronym from her first bout of research that she did while in the bathroom earlier. There was a lot more to sexuality and gender than she ever really considered). 

_“I hope I don’t find it weird. I don’t want to treat Raven different. Or anyone different. But what if I’m like my grandparents? What if I find it… ugh, no. I’ll deal with it, regardless.”_

_“…I hope.”_

Three, she was going to just be _better_. A broad goal for someone with no idea of how to go about achieving it, but a goal, nonetheless. 

Clarke sighs up at the ceiling. Lexa once again stomps into her mind, demanding to be thought about and remembered.

_“I’m so sorry, Lexa.”_

She ruminates on the possibility of Lexa forgiving her, outlining ways that she could prove how sorry she is and that she is really trying to be a better person. She huffs.

_“Slim to none, probably.”_

She rolls over and reaches for her phone, scared of what Raven may have replied with. Disappointment, fear, and sadness rolls over her as she stares at the screen.

Clarkey, 9:03PM

_I’m really sorry about today. I’m sorry I made you feel that you couldn’t tell me something so important, and then made it more about me than anything else. I’m sorry for what I did to Lexa 12 years ago. I know that ‘lesbian’ isn’t a slur, or something to be thrown around as an insult. I was 6, I barely knew what it meant, and I only got the small bits of info from my grandparents (you know how they are). I’m sorry I haven’t grown since then. I was truly oblivious to my own obliviousness. I’m gonna work on that, I promise. I’ll make this better. You’re so important to me, Raven, I’ll do anything to make you see I can change. And I will change._   
_I just need a bit of help. There is so much I don’t know and I didn’t even know I didn’t know it._   
_I’ll figure this out, just please, don’t shut me out completely. I am so fucking sorry._

_I just need to unlearn and learn again._   
_And I need you to help me._

_Love you always x_

**Seen, 9:08PM**

She throws her phone on her bedside table and rolls onto her stomach. She pushes her face into her pillow and shakes as sobs wrack through her body.

_“How am I gonna fix this?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's to strangely formal and scoldy Bellamy *raises glass of water because hydration is important*
> 
> Insta: @the.unprofessional.writer (I might start posting some short stories/musings/gay shit if I get more followers. Then it won't just be poorly made memes)


	8. Strides

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! Here is chapter 8, very quickly edited because its like 11pm and that is waaay too late for me. 
> 
> I'm beginning to find it harder to write a chapter at a time and then upload it. The story and idea for the plot is developing and evolving but it's hard to throw it in when some things have already been established (or not established). I'm gonna keep going like this, but I dunno, I might do a huge edit after it's all done. Who knows.
> 
> Anyway, hope you guys enjoy! Come chat to me on insta if you really wanna discuss the story of just talk about pineapples and how weird they make your mouth feel: @the.unprofessional.writer

When Clarke wandered downstairs the next morning, she was surprised to find her parents still there. They had usually left for work by the time she emerged from upstairs to grab herself some breakfast, yet there they stood in the kitchen, quietly talking to each other over coffee while they both leaned against the counter.

“Mom? Dad?” The trepidation she felt carried in her voice and it only grew when her parents looked up, both looking flustered and uncertain as they turned to wash up the few dishes that they had used for their breakfast in silence. She made her way to the pantry to grab some cereal, then awkwardly moved around her equally awkward parents to retrieve the milk from the fridge. 

“Why are you guys still here?” she asked quietly, still unsure as to what to make of her parent’s behaviour and of the situation as a whole. She sits at the kitchen table, waiting for their response. She watches as they look at each other, seeming to have a silent conversation with just their eyes, and then both quickly make their way over to the table, sitting across from Clarke as she shovels a small spoonful of cereal into her mouth. 

“We… just needed to talk to you,” Abby says, sharing another quick look with her husband before continuing, “about last night.” Clarke gulps down her mouthful of breakfast and waits, fiddling with the hem of her shirt with the hand not tightly grasping the spoon as she glances between her parents. 

“We actually wanted to apologise.” Clarkes eyebrows shoot up, her fingers cease their mindless movements as she stares at her father and tries to make sense of his words.

“…why? You guys didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“But we did, Clarke.” Abby sighs deeply, shaking her head softly as she leans into the arm that Jake wraps around her shoulders. 

Clarke had always admired her parent’s relationship and how they balanced each other out so well. Abby had always been the dominant personality. She was stubborn and hot-headed and had a tendency to jump into situations without looking at it from all angles. Jake’s calm demeanour always encouraged her to step back and _understand_ , which also allowed Abby to help Jake tackle any problems that required a bit more _fire_.

“…I don’t understand?”

“What your mother is saying, Clarke, is that what happened is just as much our fault as it was yours.” He looked to Abby to help him explain when he received another confused look from his Clarke, her forehead creased in thought.

“It’s our job as your parents to teach you all the things you need to go out into the world, Clarke. And somehow we managed to leave out some very important things.”

“Like how stupid your grandparents are.”

“Jake!”

“What?! They are! I’m surprised I turned out so great with those two as my parental overlords.” He sends a wink to Clarke, making her chuckle quietly as some of the tension in the room is lifted. 

“Anyway,” he continues, again taking a serious tone, “we should have intervened. While we didn’t know that those things were said, I should have at least expected it from them.”

“And we also should have been more aware of your… character flaws.” Abby cringes as she says it, silently apologising to a clearly offended Clarke. 

“What your mother means is that… we do tend to coddle you more than we should. You’re almost eighteen, it’s about time we step back and make sure you’re capable of looking after yourself. Even if it’s hard for us.”

“You’re still just our little girl in our eyes, Clarke. But… since we treat you so… uhhh. Since we still treat you as a—”

“You’re a bit spoilt, kiddo.”

“For God’s sake, Jake!”

“Abby, we have time constraints, you need to make your point more quickly otherwise Clarke will have to leave for school without our words of wisdom and us being late for work will be all for naught.” Abby rolls her eyes, shooting Clarke an unimpressed look that causes her to let out another small chuckle. 

Clarke knows her parents are right. She is somewhat surprised that they’re admitting to all this. Even though what they’re saying makes sense, she herself still feels primarily responsible for everything that happened with Lexa and with her ignorance. 

_“That’s still all on me.”_

“Clarke, we love you. But we are going to have to ask you to start depending on us a bit less and start working more for yourself.”

“It’s for your own good kiddo. And also, much nicer for my wallet.”

“Jake, I swear I will divorce you if you can’t keep serious for three minutes.” Jake turns to Clarke, never having looked so serious in his life.

“Clarke, I’m sorry you had to find out this way… but your mother and I are getting a divorce.”

“Jake Griffin, I—”

“Guys!” Clarke interrupts through her own laughter, “I get it, but… how am I supposed to fix all of this? I won’t magically become all-knowing and shit in one day of _trying_ to do things myself. I don’t even know what things I don’t know how to do. And now all my friends are mad at me and I don’t know how to understand everything that I need to understand and—”

“Kiddo!” Clarkes spiralling ramble is cut short by a smirking Jake. “One step at a time, okay?” Her father’s kind eyes have always made her feel calm, ever since she was a kid. 

“Just… where do I start?”

“Have you apologised to Lexa?”

“Of course I have. I’m ignorant, not a complete asshole.” Her father chuckles while her mother raises one eyebrow.

“Mmhmm. How did she take the apology?”

“She told me to shove it down my throat and leave her the fuck alone.” Her parents are silent for a few moments, seemingly taken aback by the animosity that Lexa seems to still have towards Clarke and their daughter’s complete resignation to that fact.

“Well… that’s definitely a reaction.”

“Didn’t expect that one, did ya Abs?”

“Okay well… maybe it is best to just leave her alone then. Give her her space, but still be nice at every given chance.”

“That was the plan, but I don’t feel like anything I’ll ever do will make her forgive me. It was twelve years ago, and she’s acting like it happened yesterday.”

“Well, maybe for her it did?” Clarke stares blankly at her father, preparing herself for one of his random statements of pure wisdom that tend to show up exactly when needed, even though they were a bit overkill. “Her whole life was changed because of what you did, Clarke. You’ll never know how that ended up impacting her, and I’m sure she still thinks about what could have been had it not happened. To her, you and you alone are the reason her life is the way it is. Everything could have been very different for her had you not used lesbian as a slur.”

“…You impress me, sometimes, you know that?” 

“Such high praise, Abby. Thank you.” Clarke rolls her eyes at her parent’s antics, but really thinks on what her dad said. He’s right, Lexa would have probably stayed in Arkadia, just like almost everyone else. She would have grown up with Clarke, and with all of the same people at school. They may have even been friends, had Clarke not made such a huge mistake all that time ago. 

Clarke sighs. There wasn’t much she could do about Lexa. After all, she had made it very clear that she wanted nothing to do with Clarke, so her worries turned towards the current tension she has with her friends.

“What about my friends? How do I make them see that I can be better?” He parents sigh in unison, grossly in sync after their many years of marriage. 

“You’re just gonna have to be better, kiddo.”

“Actions speak louder than words after all, Clarke. Show them that you’re making an effort, that should be enough for now. They all love you. You’ll get through this and figure it all out in time.” 

Clarke leans back in her chair, her cereal long forgotten and now disgustingly soggy. Running both hands through her hair, she sighs, piecing together ways that’ll show each of her friends that she can be better.

That she _will_ be better.

______________________

“Octavia! Wait!” Octavia turns to see Clarke running through the carpark, bag hanging precariously from one shoulder as she weaves her way through students to reach her just in front of the school entrance. 

“Hey.” She’s panting, never having been one to run unless absolutely necessary.

“Clarke. I haven’t seen you run since that time your yellow shirt attracted the attention of those bees.” Clarke’s cheeks turn a rosy pink as she laughs lightly, put at ease by the gentle banter.

“Yeah, I only run for the important things, right?” Octavia smiles softly, nodding to show she understands how Clarke is trying. 

Octavia watches as Clarke takes a few breaths, looking out towards the sea of students slowing making their way around them and into the school.

“I really wanted to apologise. For yesterday. And all the other days I was an oblivious ass. I’m trying, _really_ trying to be better. I just need some time to unlearn a few things and then… you know, learn them again. But… right.” She gives an awkward smile, hoping that she will get her best friend back. Hoping she will have someone to really help her. The smile vanishes when Octavia sighs, looking torn.

“I know you’re trying Clarke. And, believe me, I want to help you, but right now you really need to talk to Raven.” Clarke deflates, but tries to not let it show too much.

“I sent her a text last night… she didn’t reply.”

“I know. She told me.” Octavia gives Clarke a sympathetic look, placing a hand on her shoulder when she deflates even further. “She should still be by her locker; she only just went inside before you showed up.” She tilts her head down to catch Clarke’s eye, giving her a nod before stepping aside. 

“Go talk to her. And please, _fix this_.” Clarke nods quickly, heading through the front doors of the school and making a beeline for Raven who, just as Octavia said, was still by her locker.

“Raven, I—” she stops when Raven whips around, grabs her wrist tightly, and begins leading her through the school. She follows, confused, as Raven weaves between students and teachers, passing their friends without so much as a greeting and makes her way through the back exit and out towards the empty field. 

She finally stops when they reach the bleachers, letting go of Clarke’s wrist to walk up a few stairs and sit. Clarke gingerly sits down next to her, waiting for Raven to explain as she watches her stare out over the field for a few long moments.

“I got your text.”

“I know.”

“I don’t think I can be the person to help you, Clarke.” She finally turns to look at Clarke, her fear etched deep in her features. 

“Why not?”

“Because I’ve done this before, Clarke. Why do you think I transferred here?” Clarke tilted her head, eyebrows furrowed as she takes in Raven’s words. 

_“Oh.”_

Clarke shakes her head, hardly believing that she could feel even stupider after yesterday. She looks back to Raven, seeing her watery eyes and tight set of her jaw.

“Raven… I am _so sorry_.” Raven just nods, looking down at her lap as Clarke sees a tear fall onto her shorts. 

“I told my best friend I was bi. She had a similar reaction to you just… less stupid and more mad.” She looks to Clarke with a small, cheeky smile. “Your reaction wasn’t really that bad. I mean, considering your grandparents, who I _despise_ , just in case you didn’t already know,” her smile grows as Clarke gives a confident nod, “you really were just confused. But still… it was so goddamn similar, Clarke. I can’t do that again.”

“I know, and I _swear_ , I’m gonna be better.” She moves closer to Raven, their thighs now touching, and nudges her with her elbow to get her to look at her again. “You’re still my best friend, Raven. Provided my dumb pistachio ass didn’t fuck everything up.” Raven lets out a small laugh, bumping her forehead on Clarke’s shoulder before standing up.

“We’re gonna be late for homeroom.” She turns to her friend, still firmly planted on the bench and, as always, looking confused. “We’re still friends, dumbass. Just… let me come to you, okay?” Her eyes beg Clarke to understand, and she nods when Clarke smiles. They make their way slowly across the field in silence, both content but still wary of the other. 

They make it back to the main building, Raven opening the door and dramatically beckoning Clarke through.

“Good luck in homeroom, Clarkey.” Her mischievous smile grows when Clarke halts, eyes becoming comically wide as she mutters a quiet “shit” at the reminder.

“Raven, quick, what do I do?” Raven just laughs, placing her hand on Clarke’s back and leading her towards her homeroom. Once there, she gives it a firm pat, looking Clarke in the eyes with the most serious look she could muster.

“Don’t talk about pancakes.”

______________________

Clarke walks in to Ms. Vie watching her and disapprovingly tapping her imaginary watch, and she fees the apologetic smile turn into more of a grimace as she sees Luna sitting on her desk, animatedly talking to Lexa. She approaches as casually as possible, noticing the quick glance from Lexa, and rounds the desk to sit down, placing her bag at her feet as she awkwardly looks up at Luna.

“Hey there, Clarkey! Nice of you to join us, even Finn got here before you.” Clarke turns and, sure enough, Finn was sitting to her right, giving her a casual salute and a smirk while he chews loudly on the cereal he’s eating directly from the box. 

“Clarke.”

“Finn.”

“How’s the self-reflection going?”

“It’s going quite well, actually. I’m making some strides. One day at a time.”

“I respect that.” And with a nod, he returns his focus to his cereal, tilting his head back to pour it into his mouth. 

_“What a strange dude.”_

After she returns the quick nod, Clarke turns back to Luna and Lexa, the former laughing quietly at the bizarre exchange while the latter has a single eyebrow raised and the same passive expression she tends to wear whenever she isn’t yelling at Clarke. 

“What was that all about?”

“That, Luna, was growth.”

“Growth, huh?” She laughs, shaking her head fondly as she stands from the desk. “Well, I’m all for growth. I’ll see you around, Lexa.” 

Clarke watches as she walks back to her desk, immediately starting a conversation with the girl next to her.

_“Shit, what’s her name?”_

“Why do you always look confused?” Clarke turns to Lexa.

“Holy shit, she’s talking to me.”

“See, right there. Always confused.”

“I’m… just thinking.”

“What could possibly leave you that confused?” Clarke, taken aback, blinks stupidly for a few moments as she decides on how to react to the jabs.

“Well, a plethora of things, really.”

“Such as?” Clarke squints her eyes in suspicion.

“Why do you wanna know?”

“Because I like knowing things.”

_“That’s fair.”_

“Okay, well for one, I was trying to remember that girls’ name.”

“Which one?”

“The one next to Luna. I’ve only spoken to her a few times and it was always just small talk while mutual friends were chatting. It starts with an ‘N’. Nee… Nih… Nile…”

“Niylah.” 

“That’s the one!” Clarke turns to Lexa, satisfied, and immediately becomes confused at the weird expression on Lexa’s face.

“You’re confused again.”

“Yeah, your face is weird.”

“I’ve been told otherwise, but sure.”

“No no! Not like that! You’re beautiful, but like, you actually have an expression that isn’t just blank passiveness or anger.” Lexa watches her for a while, eyes narrowing the longer she stares.

_“What did I do now?”_

“My entire personality doesn’t revolve around you, princess. Or am I not allowed to have more than two emotions? I haven’t quite gotten the hierarchy of this place just yet, so if you’re like the leader, lemme know. I’ll adjust.” She finishes with a tight-lipped, sarcastic smile, tilting her head slightly to the side to accentuate her fake acceptance of high school conformity.

Clarke stares at her, mouth slightly agape and a mixture of annoyance and hurt in her features. 

“You know, I think I prefer you handing my ass to me every day more than this weird sarcastic shit.” It’s mumbled, but still clearly audible from less than a metre away. Lexa scoffs and shakes her head, watching Clarke as a sadistic smirk spreads across her face.

“You can bet your ass, princess, that I don’t care. And if you prefer the anger, that can be arranged too, but,” she stands as the bell rings, collecting her bag before she bends slightly so she can lower her voice to a growl, “I gotta have my fun, too.”

Clarke watches her leave, still firmly rooted in her chair as she processes the last few minutes.

_“What the fuck was that.”_

She groans, placing her forehead on the desk. She hears everyone else stand and move about except for Finn, who also remains at his desk, still chewing on an obnoxiously large mouthful of cereal. 

“So. She’s still mad at you.”

“Yes. Thank you, Finn.”

“How’re you gonna fix that?”

“I don’t know, Finn.”

“…Do you want some cereal?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Finn is the resident lovable weird guy. I dunno about you guys, but I wasn't expecting that (legit, I deviated from the outline after the 2nd chapter. This is all just as I go.)


	9. The Magic Word

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 9 is here, it's only kinda queer (sorry), and it's like the final real 'set-up' chapter so yay! 25k words later and the fun bits can hopefully start. 
> 
> Let me know your thoughts, I love reading the comments so damn much.
> 
> Also let me know if you want more world building. I tend to explain only just enough and that may not be the best, so lemme know my dudes.
> 
> Thanks for the ongoing support, 10k hits holy damn, I love all of you.

“I’m just saying, there is more to this than we could ever know.”

“Jasper, for the last time, Bigfoot is a myth.”

“A _legend_ , thank you. And there is no proof that he doesn’t exist!”

“Well there isn’t any proof that he does, either.”

“But that is science! If we cannot disprove it, then there is a possibility!”

Clarke walks up to her friends sprawled across the grass, Jasper and Octavia having one of their usual spats about either myths, legends, or conspiracy theories.

“He has a point, there. That is basically science summed up.” Clarke chuckles as Octavia glares at Raven. She drops her bag and flops down on the grass next to Raven, receiving a gentle nudge from her elbow and a small nod in greeting.

“So. How was homeroom?” Raven smirks as Clarke lets out a groan, dramatically throwing herself backwards so she was spread like a starfish on the ground. 

“…So pretty good, huh?” 

“Oh yeah. Definitely. Finn offered me some of his cereal.”

“Oh, that’s nice.”

“Mmhmm.”

“…Lexa handed your ass to you again, didn’t she?”

“Yup.”

“How bad?” Clarke, head still firmly to the earth and eyes tracing the clouds, pursed her lips in thought.

“Actually, not too bad. It was more of an after-thought ass handing.”

“Wow, you’ve been demoted to an after-thought.”

‘Yeah. Or she’s just losing her touch. I imagine being filled with that much anger takes a toll on one’s ability to hand asses on a continuous basis.”

“Oooh, we talking about another of Clarke’s ass handings?” Murphy lifted his head from Emori’s lap, rising to his elbows when Raven gives an enthusiastic nod.

“Yeah, she’s been demoted.”

“Ouch, not even worth a _good_ ass handing now, aye Clarkey?” Clarke, without taking her eyes off the clouds, lets out a small hum and reaches her arm out blindly in the direction of Murphy’s voice.

“Come closer, I need to share my dwindling importance.”

“What does that even mean, Clarke?”

“It means I want to get you away from Emori so I can pummel you.”

“Why, you scared Emori will beat your ass?”

“Absolutely. Your girlfriend is the scariest nice person I know. Plus, I like her and don’t want to accidentally hit her with my laughable hand-eye coordination.” Emori chuckles as Murphy once again rests his head in her lap, quickly returning to their quiet conversation. 

Clarke continues to trace the clouds as her friends jump from one topic to the next. She creates images from the smallest details, grabbing details from one cloud and mentally adding it to the details of another. Before long, she has painted a scene, of a landscape vast and littered with creatures and life and personality. 

“Hey, Earth to Clarke! Come in, Clarke!” Clarke lifts her head, shooting an annoyed glare at Jasper.

“Can I help you?”

“Why is Bellamy hugging your girl?”

“My what?”

“Your girl. The green-eyed goddess that hands you your ass every day.”

“She’s not _my girl_.” Jasper raises his hands in surrender, lifting his shoulders and tilting his head in compliance.

“I’m just saying, Bellamy is hugging her and we thought you might know why.”

“I thought we established how oblivious I am? Why would I know?” She tries to keep her voice light and casual, but she cranes her neck in all directions before, sure enough, finding Bellamy removing his arms from around Lexa’s waist, and Lexa smiling. _Really_ smiling.

_“What the fuck?”_ She watches them talk and takes note of how at ease Lexa is. Every time Clarke had seen her, she always seemed to be in defence mode; arms crossed, cold eyes confidently looking past everyone, and, of course, that special glare reserved just for her. 

“See, you gotta get her to talk to you like _that_.” Finn interrupts her thoughts through a mouthful of food, bringing himself to rest propped on one elbow alongside Clarke’s starfish form. 

“Finn, I gotta tell ya, your observation skills are second to non—where did you get more cereal from?”

____

“I found another box in my car.”

____

“Why do you have cereal in your car?”

____

“In case I get hungry for cereal.”

____

“…Can I have some?” Clarke returns her attention to the two figures across the field as she picks from the handful of cereal she cups protectively. She watches as they seem to say their goodbyes before Bellamy turns and makes his way over, smile plastered firmly on his face. 

____

“Do you reckon they were past lovers?”

____

“Considering we were all six the last time we saw her, I’d say no.”

____

“…but like what if—”

____

“Finn. They were not lovers.”

____

“There is such a thing as young love, Clarke.” Clarke turns to Finn mid chew, staring in amused wonderment at the madness that is his mind. She turns to Raven, noticing that she and the rest of her friends had all been watching the various scenes play out in front of them, each of them wearing a similar look to her own. All except Jasper, who seemed to be pondering the possibility. 

____

She turns to Bellamy as he sits down next to her, sending her a broad grin and as he ruffles her hair.

____

“I heard that you are putting in the effort, Clarkey. I’m proud of you.” She pouts and swats his hand away, fixing her hair with narrowed eyes directed at the chuckling boy.

____

“Well, you know. When everyone you know and love tells you to get your shit together, you just gotta listen.” 

____

“Yeah so enough about Clarke, what’s up with you and Lexa?” Murphy, as tactful as ever, says. Clarke watches as Bellamy stiffens and clenches his jaw, eyes scanning the watchful group before settling on a random spot on the grass in front of him.

____

“Holy shit. They _were_ lovers.”

____

“Jasper, bro, shut up,” Monty glances at Bellamy, sharing a look of understanding before continuing, “they were friends before she left.”

____

“How do you know?”

____

“Because Monty was friends with her too.” Jasper, along with everyone else, turns to Bellamy who sits legs crossed, mindlessly picking at the grass near his feet. 

____

“…you guys were friends?” Clarke whispers, understanding that she really never understood the scale of her previous actions. 

_“How could I not know this?”_

“If you guys were friends, how come you didn’t know it was us that were bullying her?” Bellamy sighed, looking at his sister with a mixture of exhaustion and annoyance. 

____

“Because she was always the bigger person. She didn’t see the point in naming you guys because she figured it wouldn’t help. Plus, knowing what I do now, I also assume she knew I was your brother. She wouldn’t have wanted to cause drama.” Octavia deflates under the stern look from her brother, shifting uncomfortably along with the rest of the guilty friends. 

____

The bell rings, breaking the awkward silence that hung heavy over the group and signifying the end of their break. They all slowly stand, gathering their belongings and quietly make their way back towards the main building, guilt once again weighing heavily on their shoulders. Clarke hangs back with Bellamy building up the courage to ask what’s on her mind.

____

“Bellamy… how much did it really impact her life?” She feels dread well up deep in her gut at the sigh he releases. He looks at her with sad eyes, shaking his head softly as he begins leading the way back to the others.

____

“I don’t know, Clarke. I didn’t press too much for details and honestly, even if I did know, it really isn’t for me to say.” He stops and turns to face her, his eyes filled with empathy but his features stern and unwavering. “I… get the feeling she blames you, though… for everything.”

____

“Everything?”

____

“Everything. Apparently life hasn’t been the kindest to her since she left. I really don’t know the details but… the few things she said, and the fact that she came back here _by herself_ tells me that… she’s been through shit Clarke. And I imagine she believes it wouldn’t have been this way had you not said what you did. Had you not made her parents believe that leaving was the only way to keep their daughter safe.” 

____

He watches as silent tears leave trails on Clarke’s cheeks. He believes, with all his heart, that she is trying to be better, and that she will put all her effort into making it happen. But that still doesn’t change what she did, and it won’t change until she figures out a way to make it up to Lexa. Or at least get her to see that… she is more than her childhood. 

____

That both of them have changed.

____

That both of them have some growing to do. 

____

____________________

____

____

Clarke stumbles through the hallway, eyes glued to her phone as Raven sends updates on the short-tempered mood of their English teacher. She’s shooting back a poorly formed excuse for Raven to pass on when she collides with another body, sending books thudding to the floor and a small ‘oof’ to fall from their lips. 

____

“Shit, I am so sorry,” Clarke scrambles to gather the books, stacking them neatly in a pile before standing up, “I’m just super late to class and I’m trying to get my friend to pass on my excuse and—Niylah. Hey.” Niylah lets out a light chuckle at the blonde who was attempting to balance the stack and her phone, all while trying to keep her bag on her shoulder.

____

“Clarke, it’s fine, honestly. Give me those, you’re gonna hurt yourself.” Clarke blushes as she gratefully hands over the books. “So, we’re in for it then, huh?” 

____

It takes Clarke a few seconds to remember seeing Niylah sitting by herself at the back of her English class the day before, head down and dutifully taking notes. She smiles, letting out a small sigh of relief in knowing she isn’t the only one that is going to probably get detention.

____

“Uh, yeah. He has apparently already cursed my name for not being there, so I can imagine you have also been cursed.”

____

“Oh no, cursed by a middle-aged white man who has been divorced three times and now has seven kids he has to pay child support for, the horror.” The cheeky glint in her eye makes Clarke giggle, momentarily forgetting the seriousness of their situation as they both stand in the middle of the empty hallway.

____

Clarke realises she doesn’t know much about the girl in front of her, and therefore has no idea what to say in the silence that follows. She takes in the soft eyes and the strong features, and the way her hand rests casually on the messenger bag at her hip. She hears Niylah chuckle, turning slightly and jerking her head gently towards the end of the hallway.

____

“C’mon, Clarke. We should probably go before the curse extends to our children’s children.” Clarke follows slightly behind her, admiring the laid-back vibes of the girl dressed in ripped jeans, heavy combat boots, and a haphazardly buttoned flannel. 

____

“Maybe if he sees us go in together, he’ll go easy on us. We can pretend that one of us had an accident or something.” Clarke returns the devious smile, nodding enthusiastically at the idea.

____

“What kind of accident?” Niylah purses her lips in thought, the action accentuating her cheekbones and jawline.

____

“We can say you got your period and needed help.”

____

“Why do I have to be the one having the accident?!”

____

“Because you’re a terrible liar, so I’ll be doing all the talking,” Niylah shoots back with a smirk. She hands Clarke her books and places her bag on the floor before slowly removing her flannel, leaving herself in a sheer white tank top. “Here, wrap this around your waist.” Clarke raises an eyebrow at her, but does as she is told, handing over the books and setting her own bag down to secure the shirt around her. 

____

“Are you sure this is actually gonna work?”

____

“Have you seen men react to the word ‘period’? Clarke pursed her lips and nodded, convinced that this only _might_ get them detention. She follows as Nilyah continues down the hallway in silence, falling into stride beside her as they make their way to their classroom. When they arrive, Niylah enters the room first with Clarke hovering close behind her. 

____

“Niylah! You’re late!” It appeared as though he had been waiting for them, arms crossed and body turned completely towards the door. His face goes red when he takes in the bare shoulders of the student, and ferocity colours his tone. “And that shirt is against dress code! Double detention!”

____

“But sir,” Niylah’s voice sounded far more innocent than Clarke had previously heard, also plastering an apologetic look for her truancy, “Clarke got her period and needed help. I gave her my flannel to cover up the—” 

____

“Okay! Okay, just… sit down. Both of you. Don’t let it happen again.” He shook his head and made his way behind his desk, muttering and shuffling papers mindlessly as Clarke and Niylah walk further into the room. Clarke notices that, in her brief absence, Raven had taken her seat next to Octavia, leaving her seat next to some kid that was currently playing Chubby Bunny with himself empty. Niylah steps closer to Clarke, sending her a small, victorious smile before bending slightly to bring her mouth closer to Clarke’s ear.

____

“There’s a spare seat next to me, if you want.” Clarke nods, walking past an only slightly apologetic Raven and towards the back of the room with Niylah.

____

They sit in silence, neither really listening to their teacher rambling on about Romeo and Juliet and the tragedy that was their communication skills. Clarke had taken to drawing in the margins of her exercise book while Niylah quietly watched, every now and then reaching over to make her own little adjustments to Clarke’s sketches which led to Clarke being reprimanded for “laughing at the tragedy that is love.” 

____

“You’re the worst,” Clarke giggled, using her elbow to keep Niylah’s pencil away from her drawing of Squirtle, “and your drawing sucks.”

____

“Makes for a good laugh though, doesn’t it?” There’s a small glint in her eye, Clarke shaking her head at her antics before returning her focus to her drawing.

____

“Maybe a bit, yeah.” 

____

Clarke doesn’t notice her proud smile. 

____

___________________

____

____

It was supposed to be Clarke’s night to prepare dinner, but she had received a text from her mother shortly after she had arrived home to wait for them before starting. So, she waits, working on the small amount of math homework that was assigned for that night.

____

_“Maths is fucking impossible.”_ She huffs, sagging in her desk chair as she stares up at the ceiling. She had never been one for numbers. She could bullshit her way through an essay if she needed to, but numbers always screwed with her head. She grabs her phone and sends a text to Raven, asking if she could help her with the questions tomorrow morning before homeroom, and does a little wiggle in her seat when Raven responds that she will, provided Clarke is there on time. 

____

She closes her maths textbook and flings it to the floor, moving on to the questions she had to answer about Shakespeare and his many euphemisms. She admired her drawings in her book, smiling at the small additions that Niylah had made that had both ruined them and made them so much better. 

____

She is about halfway through the questions when she hears her parents pull up the driveway and their voices drift up through the open window.

____

“Kiddo! Come help us with the groceries!” She finishes the sentence she’s writing then stands, hopping over her discarded maths book and makes her way downstairs and out the door.

____

“How much food did you guys get?!” Her parents were always ones to buy more food than the three of them needed, but this was excessive even for them.

____

“We’re planning on having a guest over tonight and, since it’s your turn to cook, we thought we would serve a bit of a feast.” Her father wears a cheeky grin, handing his daughter a number of bags that she struggled under the weight of before grabbing some more and ushering her back to the house. “There are a lot of cold foods in those bags too, so make sure they go straight in the fridge!” Clarke groans, slowly making her way into the kitchen and dramatically dropping the bags onto the floor. 

____

_“All this for one guest?”_ She gets to work, confused as to the amount and sheer extravagancy of the food she was putting away.

____

“Guys, why do we have an entire turkey? No one eats this much turkey unless it’s a holiday.”

____

“We wanted variety; we don’t know what she likes.” Clarke turns to her parents, her confused frown deepening.

____

“What do you mean you don’t know? Do we even know this person?”

____

“Well, we don’t, personally,” Abby says, putting away snacks and tins into the pantry, “but you do.” Clarke frown, somehow, deepens again.

____

“Why would you invite someone over that you don’t know but I do? Why wouldn’t you get me to ask them?” She watches her father get all giddy, standing up straight with a huge, devious grin.

____

“That reminds us!” He looks to Abby like a child on Christmas, receiving an eye-roll and a small smile. “Clarke, could you please go invite Lexa over for dinner?” 

____

Clarke pales, eyes widening as her father’s grin does the same. She looks to Abby for confirmation that this is just a joke, but all she sees is a raised eyebrow, directed at her this time, and a small challenge for her to refuse.

_“Goddamn it.”_

___________________

____

____

After a solid ten minutes of arguing, Clarke finds herself crossing the street and walking up the driveway leading to her neighbour, once again in their garage.

____

“I thought I made things very clear, princess.” Clarke sighs, deflating and wanting nothing more than to walk away and just suffer the wrath of her parents.

____

But she knew her parents were right.

____

They had told her that she owed Lexa more than she understands, and the first step is to extend this type of olive branch. They believe that with them there they might be able to help mediate, and also apologise to her themselves for what had happened because “a parent’s apology weighs more than that of the child _they_ raised, Clarke.” 

____

No matter how much Clarke argued that Lexa wouldn’t accept, and that she has made clear, several times, that she wants nothing to do with Clarke, her parents told her to march across the street and convince her to eat the ridiculous amount of food they had purchased. 

____

“My parents sent me over. Believe me, I’m trying to break the streak you have of handing me my ass, I wouldn’t just come over here for no reason.” Lexa is bent over a desk covered with blueprints and tools, none of which makes sense to Clarke. She watches as Lexa turns to look at her, confusion clear in her frown, and straighten her back to reach her full height.

____

“Why would they do that?” The lack of malice in the question encourages Clarke to walk further into the garage, meeting Lexa a few feet away from the desk. 

____

“They want to invite you over for dinner.” Lexa tilts her head like a confused puppy and, honestly, Clarke is living for this slight shift in dynamics. 

____

“Why?”

____

“Because I’m a spoilt dick and they want you to know that they also understand that.”

____

“…what?” 

_“Who’s confused now?”_

“My parents would like to formerly apologise to you on their own behalf. Even though they had no idea what happened between us. And it’s still all my fault but, like, they want to apologise and shit.” She waits as Lexa just stares at her, processing and analysing the sincerity behind the words. 

____

“I told them you want nothing to do with me and you’d say no, but they insisted I ‘extend the olive branch’ and shit so. You don’t even have to think of an excuse, just a no will be—”

____

“Sure.”

____

“Great! I’ll tell them you’re busy with your… blueprints or something and I’ll just get out of your—wait. Sure?”

____

“Yes. Sure.”

____

Clarke’s mouth drops open, staring in horror at the calm demeanour of the girl who very clearly told her to fuck off and leave her alone. 

_“What the fuck?!”_

“Wait. Wait wait wait. Sure?! As in yes?!”

____

“What are you not understanding about those words, princess? They’re very common words.”

____

“Yeah! But, why are you saying them?!”

____

“Honestly, I thought it might make you panic and annoy you.”

_“Oh good God.”_

“So, what’s for dinner?”

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those that are curious, the other option for the chapter title was 'Chubby Bunny Kid'. A masterpiece, I know.
> 
> Also, for those that keep asking for more Lexa, my only notes for this chapter were:  
> CHAPTER ENDS WITH JAKE AND ABBY MAKING CLARKE ASK LEXA OVER FOR DINNER AND LEXA ACCEPTING – CHAPTER 10 IS LEXA TIME BABY
> 
> So there ya go. Everyone is excited. I, too, am excited. I, too, also have no idea what is gonna happen. A surprise for everyone involved.
> 
> Come chat on insta: @the.unprofessional.writer


	10. Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, the chapter that I (and you guys, too) have been waiting for is here. 
> 
> I wrote this in a few sessions and only did a quick edit because I wanted to post it asap, so apologies if some things don't flow as well as they should (writing and posting chapter by chapter be like that my gosh).
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy, let me know your thoughts and come chat on insta where I will also eventually be posting little gay writes and stuff: @the.unprofessional.writer
> 
> ALSO I love how much the last chapter made people lose their shit, holy damn. Thank you to everyone who had such kind words to say, I hope the universe is super kind to you and fills it with so much wlw content

Clarke paces anxiously in the kitchen, furiously picking at her lip as she mutters to herself in an attempt to calm down.

“Kiddo, you’re causing a draft.” Jake’s comment is ignored, not even heard by the shaking blonde. Jake and Abby are both sitting at the kitchen counter, not having moved, for the exception of Jake’s fingers drumming on the countertop, since their daughter came storming in in the same state that she is currently. She hasn’t said a word, just began pacing and has been for about four minutes. 

“Clarke, sweetie?” Abby’s gentle attempt at gaining Clarke’s attention is also ignored, causing Abby to huff, rise from her seat, and walk directly into Clarke’s path. She collides into her mother, but that does nothing but stop her pacing. She now simply sways in place, still trembling and picking her now slightly bleeding lip.

“CLARKE!” Her eyes, wide and terrified, snap up to Abby. She slowly comes back to the present, aware of the firm weight of her mother’s hands on her shoulders and of the rhythmic tapping of her father’s fingertips on the counter. “What’s wrong?”

“She said yes.” Her mother tilts her head forward in confusion, brow furrowing as she searches Clarke’s unfocused eyes for more details.

“And? That’s what we wanted.”

“That’s what _you_ wanted!” And Clarke is pacing again, faster now, as she rambles out the brief interaction she had with Lexa a few minutes prior.

“She was really confused when I asked her and just before I asked her she was all bitter and abrupt as she always is so I just told her that ‘no’ is a perfectly acceptable answer and when I asked her _why the fuck_ she would say yes, she said because she thought it would make me panic! And guess fucking what?! She was right!” Her parents are silent as they continue to watch her frantic movements, until Jake stands slowly and brings himself next to his wife.

“I don’t think we thought this completely through,” he whispers to Abby, receiving a quick rise of a single eyebrow in agreement, “she isn’t going to be able to cook if she stays like this.”

“Goddamn it, Jake!” He laughs at the hiss, straightening up and walking towards his daughter, catching her as she collides with his chest.

“Kiddo, relax.” His soft eyes had always reassured Clarke in the past, but it didn’t look to be doing the trick this time. “It’s just dinner. Maybe this will fix everything, you just have to take the chance.”

“You guys don’t understand, she _hates_ me. Okay? She doesn’t just have a gentle disdain for my company, she loathes the entire idea of my existence! She blames me for _every little thing_ that has happened to her since I said that one thing, _twelve fucking years ago_! I get that it was wrong, I have apologised, _profusely_ , but I don’t know what else I can do that will end with her not wanting to pull my guts out of my mouth!”

“…well, maybe your cooking skills will be the thing that does it?”

“Dad!”

“Okay! Just… it’s happening, Clarke. You’re not going to be able to avoid this and it will probably get worse before it gets better, and there isn’t shit you can do about it. But, maybe you can get it over with quicker, and then there might be a chance to fix it afterwards.” He smiles as his daughter nods, still looking like she may throw up any second, but at least now grounded. “When did she say she will be here?”

“She said she just needed to clean herself up. She was working in her garage again.” Jake’s eyes brighten at that.

“She was working in her garage? On cars? Bikes? Other machinery? Does she know how to—”

“Dad, I cannot be blunt enough when I say I have no idea what she does in there. She… fiddles, with her vehicles. That’s all I know.” She says it with a flail of her hands, trying to mimic the movements she has seen Lexa make.

“…What was that, Clarke?”

“It was… what she does.”

“Clarke, that isn’t anything.”

“Yes, it is! It’s… it’s what she does!”

“Abby, please. Tell your daughter she’s embarrassing me, her engineer father.”

“You’re a radiologist!”

“I studied engineering for a bit before that!”

“That doesn’t make you an entire engineer!”

“Abby, please—” There’s a polite knock at the door, promptly ending the conversation and freezing Clarke in place. The family exchange looks, Clarke’s terrified, Jake’s childlike, and Abby’s reprimanding. 

“Clarke, get changed, you can’t just wear booty shorts.” Clarke looks down, remembering that she is basically dressed in what she will wear to bed.

“I mean, she did already go over there in those—”

“Jake! Clarke, go change into at least denim shorts, please.” Clarke, too scared to argue, just nods and dashes upstairs, muttering a few curses as she sees the shadow of Lexa standing on the other side of the front door. 

She frantically rummages through her draws, throwing articles of clothing all over her room to find something that is both appropriate for a guest (especially one that hates her) and also something still seems casual; the exact opposite of how she feels. She finds her best pair of black denim shorts and throws on a light tank top, tucking it into her shorts while she gives herself a small pep talk.

_“It’s okay, Clarke. You’ve got this. It’s just a dinner. A dinner with the girl who despises your existence because you completely fucked up her life twelve years ago. It’s fine. Everything is completely fine.”_

She looks in the mirror, accepting the permanent look of panic etched into her features and, with one final deep breath, turns and makes her way downstairs.

_“This is gonna be… not at all good.”_

___________________

What Clarke was not expecting when she walked into the kitchen, was to see Lexa… smiling. 

_“…That’s a nice smile.”_

She timidly walks into the conversation, picking up on the excitement of her father as Lexa talks about her motorbike. She watches, immersed in the personality that Lexa is showing. She’s fluid, casual in her description of her bike and the work she is putting into it. She engages Abby too, turning to her and involving her in the conversation that Clarke is 100% certain she doesn’t understand at all. And yet, she is laughing too, her and Jake completely enthralled with the story Lexa pieces together so effortlessly.

_“She’s actually charming. Like really fucking charming. How can someone be so full of hatred and anger, and still be this fucking charming?”_

She lingers in the background, watching as the scene plays out. She feels a twang in her chest, and an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach. 

_“Why can’t she be like this with me?”_

She shakes her head, trying to get rid of the idea of Lexa and her as friends. 

_“It’ll never happen…”_

“Clarke! You made it!” Clarke freezes as her father brings all the attention to her, Lexa turning slightly, the smile that had graced her features just seconds before vanishing quickly as their eyes meet.

“Clarke.”

“Lexa.” She takes in the casual black and white button up Lexa is wearing, untucked and enough buttons undone to clearly see the slope of her chest and elegant collar bones. She is, as always, wearing black ripped jeans which, in Clarke’s opinion, is far too much fabric for summer. 

“I thought you were just cleaning up. I didn’t think that meant getting so nicely dressed.” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment, princess.” Clarke watches as Lexa eyes her outfit, significantly less clothed and more casual. She hadn’t bothered trying to hide her curvier figure, since typically acceptable ‘modesty’ wouldn’t be achieved unless she wore a hoodie ( _“fuck that”_ ). Lexa clenches her jaw, quickly turning her eyes back to Jake and Abby and giving a soft smile. 

_“Okay, I feel I should be used to that judgement by now, but still. Ouch.”_

“So, what’s for dinner?” Lexa asks, causing Jake to grin and dramatically extend both arms in Clarke’s direction.

“Well, it’s Clarke’s turn to cook and we just stocked up on supplies! It’s the guest’s choice!” Clarke sighs internally at the look of enjoyment on Lexa’s face.

_“At least she’s not glaring at me, right?”_

“What are the options?”

“Well, there is lasagne, cannelloni, turkey, pasta bake—any type of bake, really—vegetable tacos, meat tacos, stuffed capsicum—”

“Clarke,” Abby interrupts Jake’s giddy rant, “can cook most things. Just name a dish and, even if she hasn’t made it before, she will have a go, won’t you, Clarke.” Lexa looks at Clarke with raised eyebrows. If Clarke didn’t know any better, she would say that Lexa looked impressed.

She gives a small, awkward smile as she waits for Lexa to name a dish, her eyes narrowed in thought, and then in challenge. 

“How about ratatouille?” Clarke simply nods, making her way further into the kitchen in silence and begins taking out the required pots and utensils. She goes on autopilot, cutting up the vegetables and preparing the sauce all while doing her best to ignore the burning sensation she feels in her back. 

______________________

Clarke blocks out the conversation, mostly about Lexa’s bike, for the entire time she prepares dinner. She finds some solace in the movements; they’re familiar and comfortable and give her something else to focus on other than the neighbour that continues to hate her and is now staring holes into Clarke’s back.

While the meal is in the oven, Clarke takes it upon herself to make some dessert, too. She interrupts the conversation quickly to ask if Lexa has any food allergies or extreme dislikes and, when she is met with a strangely timid ‘no’, she goes about making some brownies which, to her pride, are arguably (according to her friends and family) the best brownies in the town. 

She makes a few batches, anything to avoid entering into an awkward conversation with Lexa, until the ratatouille is finally done, and she can start putting the brownie batter in the oven so they can bake while they eat. 

“Dinner is ready. I’ll bring it to the table for you guys.” She watches as the three of them situate themselves at the dinner table, her parents sitting next to each other which, to her horror (though not to her surprise) means she will have to sit opposite them. 

Next to Lexa.

_“Goddamn it.”_

She takes deep breaths as she goes about serving the food, hyping herself up for the inevitably awkward and tense conversation she is about to have. She is surprised to receive a gentle ‘thank you’ from Lexa as she places a plate in front of her, giving her a small nod in acknowledgement, and taking her place next to her, rigid and terrified. 

Clarke watches as Lexa inspects her plate, a look of pleasant surprise in her raised eyebrows, and smiles victoriously when she freezes after taking a bite. 

“So, Lexa,” Jake wiggles his eyebrows at her, “what do you think of Clarke’s cooking skills?” Lexa swallows her bite and nods, flicking her eyes quickly towards Clarke with a clenched jaw and awkward, tight lipped smile.

“It’s good.” Jake grins, muttering an ‘I told you so’ through a mouthful of vegetables. 

They eat in silence for a while, Lexa’s relaxed posture long gone and is now instead close to matching Clarke’s tense frame. Clarke doesn’t look anywhere but at her food, keeping her head down to avoid any conversation that will end up with her, once again, getting her ass handed to her. 

“So. Lexa…” Abby gives her a warm smile, sipping on her water and making that face that means questions are coming.

_“Good God, please no.”_

“...what brings you back to Arkadia?” Clarke somehow becomes even more tense when she sees a slow smile spreading across Lexa’s downturned face. She lifts her head and smiles politely at Abby, her body language indicating that she plans on ignoring Clarke for this entire conversation, happy to be extremely passive aggressive in her hatred and blame.

_“Oh no.”_

“I felt like I had some unfinished business.”

“Oh, really? Can I ask what, exactly?” A quick clench of her jaw, the muscles bunching in a way that had Clarke strangely mesmerised and also expectedly terrified, was all the warning she needed to know that this was going to be one hell of an indirect ass handing.

“Well, I just felt I needed to put some people in their place.” Clarke stares at Lexa’s profile, panic etched in her features, before turning to her dad who, to her surprise, wore a similar look of discomfort. Clarke had never seen her father genuinely awkward. He was usually the one to drive the conversation and respond in ways that engaged everyone for hours. Their eyes met and the ‘oh shit’ look that Clarke saw in his eyes made her both want to throw up and roll her eyes because _“I fucking told you so.”_

“Mmhmm. Can you explain that more for me, please?” 

_“What the fuck, mom?!”_

“Well, after what happened and with the decision that my parents made for me, I never really had the chance to stand up for myself. I wanted that chance.”

“You mean after Clarke bullied you?”

“I actually wouldn’t call it bullying. It’s more like she,” Lexa takes a pause, turning to Clarke and holding her eyes as she finishes, “started a movement. The catalyst for a huge butterfly effect, if you will.” Clarke swallows thickly, turning away from Lexa’s burning gaze and staring at the barely touched food on her plate. 

“Uh, hey, Abby?” Jake whispers to his wife, attempting to help Clarke out now that he seems to understand how much of a leap this was. However, all he got in response was a gentle hand coming to rest on his forearm.

“We actually also wanted to apologise for Clarke’s behaviour.” Abby continues, sending a warning glance to Jake. “Had we known she had said those things, we would have intervened. We actually aren’t too sure why we were never called to discuss the matter.”

“Because you’re rich.” It was blunt, Lexa’s previous politeness now only held in her posture, with a sarcastic smile taking form. Abby, for the first time since dinner had begun, pauses and searches Lexa’s face for her intentions.

“…Excuse me?”

“After Principal Pike scolded me for causing a scene after I got the shit beaten out of me, he called my parents to punish me. They, of course, defended me. And when I told my story, of how those fourth graders just attacked me, he defended them by saying that I have been telling everyone that I’m a lesbian. As if that _justified_ it.” She takes a small bite of her food, calmly chewing and swallowing before continuing.

“I said that Clarke started it. That she was the one that called me that and that I didn’t even know what it meant. As soon as I said her name, he defended her because of her parents. Because you’re ‘well respect’. Or, as I understand it, rich.” She smiles as she continues eating, a content look spreading across her face at the look of horror in Jake and Abby’s faces. 

“Lexa… we are so sorry.”

“No no, I don’t blame you guys. I mean, sure, I was criminalised because Pike was homophobic and very much wanted your ‘contributions’ to the school to continue, but I don’t blame you. It’s not your faults that you work hard and have important jobs.” Clarke had never seen her father so pale, or her mother at such a loss for words. But, of course, Abby always needed to understand _everything._

“But… why didn’t your parents approach us? Why did they just immediately take you out of school?” Lexa gave a wry smile before looking down at her plate. She played with her food a bit, nudging it across the plate as she thinks. 

“Because it had gone too far. They figured it wouldn’t have made much of a difference. Most kids at school _and_ most of the teachers were against me. Dealing with one kid wouldn’t have done very much.”

“Yeah, but maybe we could have—”

“Mom.” It was the first time Clarke spoke at the table, her head down and her fork loosely balanced in her hand. “You couldn’t have done anything. It was… really fucking bad.” She looks over at Lexa, her cold eyes boring into her own.

“Are you seriously telling me that you only came back to Arkadia because you wanted to get back at me?” Lexa’s eyes lose their coldness for a moment, flickering into what Clarke swore was pain before shifting again into pure anger and disdain.

“My family moved to Polis. Not far, but very different from here. There was a lot of crime. The roads were dangerous. Wasn’t somewhere I wanted to stay by myself.” Abby came back to the conversation at that and, ignoring Jake’s warning hand on her own.

“By yourself? What about your parents?” Clarke tilts her head, curious, and waits for her answer. It takes a while to come and Clarke is sure it’s because Lexa was staring so intently at the side of her head, waiting for her to look at her.

So, she does.

And she is met with the saddest green eyes. 

“They died. When I was nine. Killed by a drunk driver… at 5:30 in the afternoon.”

“Oh, Lexa… I’m so sorry. I—” Abby tries to think of something else to say, but everything she thought of felt too flat. 

“What about your brother?” Clarke asked thickly, looking at Lexa with such worry that Lexa seemed to pause, eyebrows bunching in confusion. “You… had a brother, right? Uhh… Andrew? Anthony? Uh…”

“Aden.” Clarke nods, watching as tears finally well up in Lexa’s eyes. 

“We were on our way to pick him up from day care. He wasn’t in the car.”

“But… you were?” Lexa just nods, guilt and grief painting her features pale. 

“I barely made it. But… I made it.” The table is silent for a while, everyone ignoring their dinner as they process the information. Jake is the first to break the silence.

“Lexa… is there anything we can do? Do you need help… money-wise? Or anything?”

“There’s a lot more demand for lawyers in the city. They got paid well and, apparently, I’m their only child, so I got the inheritance. As soon as I turned eighteen and was finally able to access it, I moved back here. I couldn’t stand being there anymore….”

“Apparently?” Clarke asked, tear streaks on her cheeks and confusion lacing her question.

Lexa stands abruptly, forcing a polite smile as she tucks her chair in.

“I should go. Thanks for dinner.” And she was gone, taking long strides out of the house and across the street. Clarke and her parents exchanged worried glances, all of them at a loss for words. They’re interrupted by the timer going off for the brownies, Clarke quickly excusing herself and mindlessly attending to the food. 

_“What the fuck just happened?”_

_____________________

Lexa sits at home, freshly showered and completely exhausted.

_“Maybe I should rethink how actively I want to annoy Clarke.”_

She rubs at her tired eyes, sighing heavily as she stares blankly at the television which had some rerun of an old show she is too young to really know. She had given away too much at dinner. She had just wanted to make Clarke feel worse ( _“as she should”_ ) but instead she broke. She gave in to the emotions she had worked too hard and too long to hide, and she fears she gave Clarke the impression that she isn’t as angry as she made herself out to be.

But she is.

_“I am. Definitely… right?”_

She huffs, annoyed at how much harder this all is than she initially thought it would be. She had planned to just… come back. Make people see that she isn’t some weak little girl that can’t defend herself. Make people feel guilty for what they did to her twelve years ago.

_“Twelve years is a long time…”_

She hadn’t expected Bellamy to remember her. She had seen him yesterday but didn’t know how to approach him. _Especially_ since he hangs out with Clarke and some of her loyal followers from back in the day. But he had approached her, and he seemed so _happy_ to see her again. 

_“I wonder why Monty hasn’t said anything… I thought he would at least remember me.”_

She thinks about the last two days. The first two days of the school year, and so much has happened. So much has changed. She hadn’t expected to make friends with Luna. She hadn’t expected a new principal. ( _“Principal Jaha is waaaaaay nicer than that Pike prick.”_ ) She hadn’t expected everyone to be so nice and chill.

She hadn’t expected for Clarke to be so… _sorry_. She was nothing like the six-year-old she remembers.

_“Well, still pretty arrogant and oblivious to others. With the same blonde hair and blue eyes. And her voice got huskier…”_ She shakes her head at herself. _“She’s ignorant, but… not on purpose? She cares about people. She didn’t seem to care about people back then…”_

She is taken from her thoughts by a timid knock at the door. She sighs, getting up and making her way to the front of her house, opening it without much thought.

“Clarke?”

“Uh, hey, Lexa.” She looks small. Smaller than usual. Hunched into herself and avoiding Lexa’s gaze at all cost. 

“I bought you over some brownies. I had them in the oven during dinner and I made a few batches because I was trying to distract myself and now, we have an ass tonne of brownies. So… I bought you some.” Lexa watches with curiosity as Clarke cringes at her own rambling words, shifting from one foot to the other while staring intensely at the large container filled with said brownies that she holds in her hands. 

“Why would you think I want some?” Lexa tilts her head slightly as she hears Clarke release a defeated sigh.

“Because, even if you don’t believe it, I’m not a complete asshole.” Lexa raises a single eyebrow. “And, also, these brownies are fucking delicious. Everyone deserves good brownies in their life.” Lexa clenches her jaw in an attempt to not smile because, really, who can argue with that?

“…The ratatouille was pretty good, so I guess I should probably believe you.” Clarke smiles softly and nods, a faint blush covering her cheeks as she silently hands over the container.

_“Why is she blushing?”_

“Anyway… I’m really sorry about dinner. My parents really like meddling. And they did also really want to apologise because, even though I know it was all me, they still feel like they’re to blame a bit.” Lexa stares at the mystery of a girl in front of her.

_“Why is she so… nice? Like, all the fucking time?”_

“Why did you say it?” It was out of her mouth before she could even process it as a thought. She clenches her jaw, trying to appear casual and not at all like this question had bounced around her head almost every day for the past twelve years.

“What?”

“Why did you call me a lesbian?” Clarke sighs, running her fingers through her hair as she thinks of a response. 

“I had spent most of the summer with my grandparents. Mom and dad were busy building their practice, and instead of leaving me at day care constantly, they left me there with my extremely homophobic grandparents who would spend their time watching TV and accusing every female who gave another female a compliment of being a lesbian.” She looks up at Lexa with guilty eyes. “I just… I didn’t know what it meant either. I never asked. But they said it with such… _disgust_ and I dunno. I really just dunno.”

Lexa nods, not expecting anything other than maybe an excuse about being young, or making a joke, or something else that people would see as the harmless behaviour of a child. She was not expecting an _actual reason_. Or the pain she sees in Clarke’s eyes. 

“I really am sorry, Lexa. For everything. Truly. If I could take it all back, I would in a heartbeat. And I’m learning. I admit that I am quite the oblivious ass, and my friends would very strongly agree, so it seems, but I am trying to do better.” The sincerity catches Lexa of guard. She stares at the small blonde standing in front of her who lowers her head and rubs at her face, exhausted. Just like her. 

She feels a small pang in her chest, but, really, all that does is annoy her.

“Being sorry twelve years later doesn’t really change much, does it princess?”

“Lexa, please, I—”

“It’s your fault Clarke. You’re the reason I now have scars. You’re the reason my whole family had to move. You’re the reason I had so many issues with figuring out who I am while I was growing up” She watches as each word affected Clarke, making her appear smaller and smaller, “and _you’re_ the reason my parents are dead.” Clarke’s head snaps up, the hurt in her eyes very quickly changing into anger.

“Wait, is that why you hate me so much? Because you blame me for your parent’s death?” At Lexa’s small nod, she huffs out a bitter sigh. “Okay, look. I understand how I can be blamed for everything else, but how the _fuck_ am I the reason your parents were killed by a _drunk driver?!_ ”

“Because, princess, if it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t have moved to a city that is actually quite notorious for DUIs.”

“What, you think that those accidents don’t happen here? Why do you think we have a new principal?” Lexa takes a small step back at that, confused as to how Pike fits into this.

“What do you mean?” Clarke looks at her in disbelief, shaking her head as if her logic had no stable foundation whatsoever.

“Pike was a _drunk_ , Lexa. He hated his job, why do you think he was such an ass? He was famous for crashing his car into things, but he had friends at the police station, so they just let him off.”

“…I still don’t get what---”

“LEXA! Just, shut up for a second, okay?! Principal Jaha had a son. He was in the year above us, it… happened not long after you left.” Lexa just stared. “Lexa. That shit happens fucking everywhere. Actually, I’d argue it happens more in small towns because there is nothing else for adults to really do. I’ll take the blame for everything else, but stop fucking making out that I’m the reason your parents are dead.”

“…It still might not have happened if you hadn’t forced me out of town.”

“Lexa, I said one thing. One fucking thing. I said it for what, maybe a day or two? Then I _never spoke to you again_. Again, I am willing to take the blame because yeah, I started the rumour, or whatever you wanna call it. But I didn’t run you out of town. I wasn’t the reason Pike was an ass, and I am not the reason your parents are dead. You can call the butterfly effect all you want, but in the infinite number of possible outcomes, you can’t be sure it was all on me. Plus, you said so yourself that there is more demand for lawyers in Polis. Maybe they were already planning on moving there, or maybe they would have ended up there eventually anyway.”

Lexa stood at her front door, mouth open and at a complete loss for words. She wasn’t expecting Clarke to bite back with such ferocity. Such _logic_ and it pissed her off. But, it also made her incredibly uneasy. 

“…I still blame you, Clarke.” Clarke releases another sigh.

“Fine. If it helps you sleep at night, go for it.” She starts walking away, looking over her shoulder. “You can make me feel guilty about the bullying, Lexa. I will always feel guilty. But I won’t feel guilty for something I had no control over.” And then she was walking away, head low and hands shoved in the pockets of her shorts. She was halfway down the driveway when she stops and turns abruptly.

“Why did you choose ratatouille?” Lexa, still standing stupidly at her door, tilts her head to the side.

“What?”

“Why did you choose ratatouille? No one our age ever chooses ratatouille.” Lexa pauses, shifting from one foot to the other.

“…My mother always used to make it.”

Clarke nods, turning to walk away when Lexa speaks up again.

“Why do you know how to make it if no one ever chooses it?” She blinks dumbly at the airy laugh Clarke releases.

“Because, while I don’t seem like the type, I actually do quite like vegetables.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's to a little bit of Lexa's POV which may occasionally appear again. Or it may not. Gonna keep the mystery alive and keep the comments interesting. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! I have a basic story outline now so that's pretty cool.


	11. The 180

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I present: The chapter that was written in like 2hours after a week of zero motivation and then took 3 days to edit and even then was not edited well. 
> 
> My mind has been a bit everywhere and I feel that it shows in this chapter. Focusing is hard. 
> 
> Anywho, I hope you guys enjoy, and I also hope that I will find my motivation and focus somewhere in the mess that is my mind. 
> 
> Cheers!

Clarke had lied. Lexa could, very easily, make her feel guilty for her parent’s death. In fact, she had been up all night feeling sick, trying to convince herself that it wasn’t her fault, and that is why she is currently late to school and, much to her annoyance, why she is frantically trying to understand maths during homeroom. 

_“Goddamn Lexa and her goddamn sad green eyes and her goddamn clenched jaw and her goddamn voice that makes me remember the shit she says and her goddamn—”_

“You look like you’re about to blow an aneurism there, princess.” 

_“—and her goddamn ability to always catch me at my stupidest.”_ Clarke looks up from her textbook, wildly unimpressed, and glares at Lexa. 

“I did always think that maths might be the thing that will kill me.” She catches a quick glimpse of Lexa raising a single eyebrow before she frantically begins searching through her textbook once again. She’s aware of Lexa taking her seat, propping her feet up on the frame of the desk and pulling out her phone. She is also aware of Finn throwing himself into his chair on her other side, causing it to screech and break the miniscule bit of concentration she had managed to scrounge together for this fifteen minute, panic induced maths extravaganza. 

“You alright there, Clarkey?”

“Finn. I beg of you. Just… okay?”

“Uhhh… sure?” Clarke feels him bring himself to hover slightly over her desk. “I’m pretty sure you have to carry the five.”

“Finn. I’m literally trying to graph a point. I may not know much, but I’m fairly certain I’m not carrying anything.” 

“Yeah, there isn’t even a five.” Clarke’s eyes shoot to Lexa, who she only just noticed is also slightly hovering over her left shoulder, watching her with that eyebrow still raised. “Is this the homework that’s due first period?” She hears Finn slump back into his chair, muttering something about being ‘underappreciated’. 

“Yes.”

“The one that Jaha accentuated the importance of?”

“Yes.”

“Why are you only doing it now?”

“Why is our principal also our maths teacher?”

“Answer the question.”

“Because I’m stupid.”

“That’s not a proper answer.”

“How would you know? For all you know, I could be monumentally stupid. The Queen of Stupids, if you will.”

“Considering the small amount I do know about you, all I can say is that you definitely wouldn’t be the queen. Just the princess.”

“Lexa, I swear to God—”

“Just, gimme the pencil.” Clarke hands over the pencil without question, leaning back in her chair as she runs her fingers through her hair with an exasperated sigh. She stares at the ceiling, the image of her imminent mathematical demise flashing through her mind. She feels a gentle tap on her thigh, bringing her attention to the pencil being handed back to her and the diagrams scribbled all over her exercise book.

“What are those?”

“Those are the general graph shapes you’ll get, dependent on the question. See,” Lexa takes back the pencil, leaning over to Clarke’s side of the desk and, in doing so, bringing the side of her right leg to press against Clarke’s left, “this is for sin, this one is for cos, and that is tan. This one is for when it’s squared, and this one… Clarke?” Clarke’s wide eyes are brought to Lexa’s, glassy and filled with panic. She looks away quickly, propping her head up with her right hand as she stares at the graphs. 

“I don’t… I don’t get maths. I understand how it’s supposed to be simple with the way you drew it but… I just don’t get it.” It’s feeble, her voice becoming quieter as she goes on. Her eyebrows are scrunched, desperately trying to understand the numbers and lines and grids that just look like a jumbled mess. 

“It’s really not that hard, princess. These graphs are just moved depending on the number added or subtracted.” Clarke feels Lexa’s eyes burning the side of her head.

“I _don’t see it_ , Lexa.” Defeated, she plants her forehead on the table and lets out a huge sigh. “I do art, Lexa. I don’t do numbers.”

“Aren’t both your parents in the medical field?”

“That doesn’t mean I can automatically do this shit, Lexa! It’s not like I haven’t tried and tried _and tried!_ I just… just… ughhhhh.”

“…Maybe… think of the lines artistically?” Clarke, forehead still firmly planted on the table, tilts her head to the side to raise an eyebrow at Lexa, not only because her idea would probably work if she could figure out how to explain that to Clarke, but also because she had never spoken to her with such softness. As if she actually _cared_.

“And how would that work?” She hides a small smile at the look of complete concentration in the furrow of Lexa’s eyebrows and the slight purse of her lips. “See, I bet that would work if you knew enough about art to make that analogy, huh?” Lexa let out a quick exhale, which Clarke proudly took as a laugh, and then went about scribbling more diagrams and notes in Clarke’s book.

“Just… focus, princess.”

“I would, but your handwriting is terrible.”

“I would feel nothing if I left you alone in your panic, Clarke.”

“Yeah yeah, punish me, not my grades, please.”

___________________

While Clarke still really doesn’t know how numbers work, Lexa had managed to explain it well enough for her to at least attempt the homework. She was sure that most of the answers she gave were wrong, but at least she could argue that she _did_ the homework. Jaha never said it had to be done well. 

Clarke took her seat at the back corner of the room, placing the necessary books on her desk and dropping her bag on the floor behind her. She watched the rest of the class file in and Jaha write the day’s work on the board which, to her annoyance, was a whole lot of questions on the very topic she was struggling so much with. She sighed, opening the textbook to the required page and groaning at the first question.

 _“Why couldn’t Lexa tolerate me more, I need her mathematical brilliance.”_ She was still surprised at how patient Lexa had been with her during homeroom. Considering all their previous conversations were laced with tension and a general distaste on Lexa’s part, the small moment of civility was, while wholly welcomed, quite the shock. 

She was initially grateful when Lexa chose to sit next to Luna at the front of the class on Monday but, now that she knew how helpful she could be, she was left feeling lost as she watched the two of them with their heads close and talking quietly. She sighed again, dropping her head onto her textbook as Jaha began the lesson, thanking people for handing in the homework and quickly assuming that everyone already knew how to do the work.

_“Goddamn maths and goddamn Jaha thinking I can do the goddamn maths.”_

It wasn’t until the end of the lesson, after an hour of Clarke staring blankly at the whiteboard and doodling in the margins of her book, that Jaha brought up the significance of the homework.

“…so by next lesson, I will have these marked and, from your grade, I will match you up with another student that you will work with on a small assignment. I’ll see you all on Friday!” Clarke’s head snapped up from the frog she was detailing, her pencil falling loose from her left hand. 

_“Oh Jesus fuck, no.”_ She threw her head back dramatically and rubbed her hands over her face. As the other students moved about her, packing away their things and voicing their own disproval of the assignment, she stared down at the diagrams and graphs that Lexa had scribbled in her workbook. 

_“Maybe I could understand it if her handwriting wasn’t so atrocious.”_ She rolled her eyes at herself and, with an annoyed groan, she slams it shut, standing and throwing her books into her bag before following her classmates out of the room. 

__________________

“Since when are group maths assignments even a thing?!” Raven blinks as Clarke’s rant comes to an end, both of them shuffling forward in line in the school cafeteria.

“I mean, it could be super helpful, Clarke.”

“How the fuck could subjecting me to not only maths, but _group maths_ be helpful? They’re like my two least favourite schoolwork related things and now they’re _joining forces_ to bring me an early demise.” Raven tries to stifle a laugh at the deep pout that is contorting Clarke’s face.

“All true, but Jaha is probably doing this to get the stronger students to help out the weaker ones. You know, trying to balance the class average.”

“But whyyyyy?”

“Becauuuuse it helps in the long run. Stop being dramatic, princess, you’ll be fine.” She laughs as Clarke groans, dropping her head onto Raven’s shoulder as she mumbles out a complaint about both maths and Raven’s adoption of ‘princess’. “Shut up, it suits you and you know it.”

“She’s right, you know.” Clarke jumps as Monty pops up from behind them, causing Raven to cackle and Monty to give an overly cheery grin.

“See? We all know it, princess.”

“Yeah, sure, but it just reminds me of Lexa and how much she hates me. Even though it’s not like she doesn’t remind me of that fact every time she glares at me.”

“What reminds you of me?”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Clarke holds a hand to her chest as Lexa speaks from behind Monty, her face as passive as ever.

“I don’t understand how Jesus would remind you of me, princess.”

“That’s not what—”

“She’s just mad that all of us have started calling her princess, and,” Raven smirks at a still startled Clarke, “she’s being a pussy because you always glare at her.”

“It’s true, I do.”

“And we understand, she was a bit of a dick.”

“What do you mean, was?” Raven chuckles, ignoring the backhanded slap to her stomach she receives from Clarke.

“True, but she’s working on that, aren’t you princess?” Clarke huffs, turning her body to the front of the line and muttering over shoulder.

“You both can go suck a dick.”

“No thanks.” Raven and Lexa share a look as they speak simultaneously, Raven laughing softly as Lexa raises one eyebrow with a soft smirk.

“So, after all the shit they put you through?” Lexa shrugs.

“What can I say, it’s what the people wanted.” She shakes her head as Raven offers her fist for a bump, chuckling softly as she obliges. “You too?”

“Nah, bi. And I lean which is great because this place has _waaayyy_ more cute girls than it does guys. I mean, have you _seen_ Luna?”

“Are you guys done?” They turn to see Clarke, arms crossed and exhaustion etched into her features. “It’s my turn next, what do you wanna eat?” 

“Is it your shout, princess?” Lexa receives a weak glare that turns slowly into a defeated nod.

“I’m rich, remember? And also someone with a lot to make up for. What do you want?” Clarke tilts her head at Lexa’s vacant expression, finally turning to tap her gently on the shoulder. “Lexa, now or never, please.”

“I don’t need your pity, princess.”

“That’s not what—” Clarke sighs, shaking her head and turning to a confused Raven. “What do you want?”

“Uh, pasta bake, please.” Clarke nods, leaning back to look for Monty and seeing him standing directly behind Lexa, staring off to the other side of the cafeteria.

“Yo, Monty! What do you want?” He turns, eyes wide and cheeks coloured a soft pink.

“Uh, oh. The… the pasta bake, please.”

Clarke nods before walking up to the counter to order and pay for the food. She moves to stand slightly to the side as she waits for it to be prepared, turning back to find her friends a few metres further back than they were and, surprisingly, Lexa still standing there with them. 

_Smiling._

Clarke watches, perplexed, as Lexa and Monty effortlessly recreate an elaborate handshake. They laugh, Lexa going in for a quick hug before pulling away and turning to Raven and, to Clarke’s complete confusion, offers her fist for a bump. She sees Raven’s eyes light up, enthusiastically bumping her fist with Lexa’s before Lexa turns and walks towards where Luna and her friends are sitting at a table. 

_“…what the fuck was all that?”_

“Hey, Clarke.” She jumps as she feels a figure come to stand close to her right side, though relaxes when she realises who it is.

“Oh, hey Niylah.”

“You okay? You seem kinda spaced out.” Clarke chews on her bottom lip as she runs through the last few minutes: Lexa showing up out of nowhere, her and Raven sharing a moment, Lexa being somewhat playful in her banter then very quickly shutting her down, once again, only to very quickly begin smiling and interacting with Raven and Monty as if she had known them all her life.

“Hey, you hang out with Luna and Echo and that, right?”

“Uhm, yeah, why?”

“Lexa hangs out with you guys, too?” Clarke doesn’t notice the slight frown that creases Niylah’s forehead.

“Yes. And?”

“Well…what’s she like?” Or notice the clench of her jaw.

“She’s okay, I guess. Why?” 

“Because,” Clarke huffs, “it’s been well established that she doesn’t like me, but sometimes the shit she puts on me is almost… more like playful banter? But then she does a full one-eighty and snaps at me but then goes and becomes all charming for my friends and I just… I wanna know if she is actually just like that or… or if she just sometimes forgets how much she is supposed to hate me.” She turns to Niylah after a few moments of silence and is met with that frown and clenched jaw. 

“…Niylah?”

“She’s fine. She’s a pretty average human being with the same personality as every brooding lesbian stereotype, but also has the arrogance of someone who is fully aware of that and knows it works. I mean, it definitely seems to be working on Luna.” Clarke’s eyebrows furrow.

“What?” Her frown deepens when Niylah just huffs, shaking her head slightly.

“She’s fine. It’s just you.” And then she is gone, shoulders hunched as she makes her way over to her friends and, from what Clarke sees, only responds to Lexa’s greeting with an indifferent nod. 

_“And what the fuck was that?!”_ Clarke rubs at her face and sighs loudly, earning a concerned look from the woman trying to hand her the three servings of pasta bake she had forgotten she was waiting for. With a sheepish smile and a ‘thank you’, she grabs the food and makes her way over to Raven and Monty, eager to find out the details of what she had witnessed.

When she finally approaches her friends, she is met with excited chatter and broad grins.

“What was that all about?” 

“Lexa and I are, like, bros now.”

“…What?”

“You wouldn’t understand, princess.” Raven smiles triumphantly, head held high and eyes twinkling. “It’s a gay thing.” Clarke just chuckles and shrugs, turning her attention to Monty and his content smile. 

“And what about you? What was that whole…” she flails her hands the best she could while still holding her lunch, “…thing, I saw?” 

“Lexa still remembers our handshake!”

“…You guys had a handshake?”

“Yeah! She was the first friend I made at school and I always thought that a secret handshake was the defining quality of friendship, and she was kind enough to humour my awkwardness.” His grin was contagious, with Raven sharing his look of enthusiasm and Clarke also managing a soft smile.

“I’m glad you’ve got your friend back.” Clarke says it softly, her smile slowly fading as she sees the child-like glee radiating off of Monty. It had been her fault that Lexa left, as she had been told many times, and she had always known that it had impacted Lexa massively, but she had never thought about it affecting anyone else. She had assumed that Lexa hadn’t had any friends, considering the incident occurred on the very first day of school and, thanks to Clarke, not many people really wanted to be around her. 

They’re walking out to their spot on the field, Monty and Raven happily eating their lunch while Clarke trailed slightly behind, remorse flooding her heart as it had so many times in the last few days. 

“Monty?” Both he and Raven turned to Clarke, smiles still firmly set in place and plastic forks poised, ready for their next mouthful. 

“What’s up, princess?” Monty jabs Raven in the ribs with his elbow when he notices the timid sadness in Clarke’s eyes.

“I’m sorry I made you lose a friend.” She was expecting him to maybe reassure her, since he was always the one to encourage forgiveness and avoid situations that keeps anyone upset. She was expecting that, or anger, something she had never seen Monty give in to but figured if anything was to provoke it, it would be this.

“Thank you, Clarke.” Clarke releases the breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. The simple acknowledgement of her efforts to improve and make up for what she did was something she hadn’t known she needed. She had been chasing the reassurance, and accepting the anger but, of course, Monty would be the one to show her what it is she actually needed. 

“C’mon, princess, enough with the sap. We get it, you’re improving as a human. Now, what was with you and Niylah back there? Are you guys friends now?” Clarke blinks.

“Oh, yeah. She’s pretty cool. Funny too.” She is met with an entirely unimpressed look from Raven.

“That didn’t explain anything.”

“What did you want me to explain?”

“Why was she all broody and shit when she walked away? What were you talking about?”

“…She was broody?” Clarke’s eyebrows shoot up as Raven releases a dramatic sigh.

‘Yes, she was broody. Monty, tell Clarke that Niylah was broody.” Monty looks up from his lunch, his mouth full of pasta.

“What?” They’re all silent for a moment, Raven staring at Monty with exhausted eyes before abruptly turning back to Clarke.

“Niylah was broody. What did you say to her?”

“Uhm… I just asked her about Lexa. I figured they were friends and she could help me… understand her a bit better, I guess… what?” She shrinks under the intense looks that both Raven and Monty are giving her, Monty still with his mouth stuffed with pasta and Raven looking more and more exhausted as the seconds go by.

“…What?”

“You’re an idiot.”

“What did I do?”

“I agree with Raven.”

“But what did… guys, wait!” She goes to catch up to her friends who had very quickly turned and walked away. “What did I do?!”

They make it back to the rest of their friends, Clarke still confused and desperately trying to get an answer.

“Hey guys, what took you so long?”

“Sup, Bell. Clarke was being an idiot.”

“Hey, I—”

“Oh, cool. What did she do this time?” Octavia asks from her spot next to Bellamy.

“She was just being herself.”

“So… oblivious?”

“That would be our Clarkey, yes.” Clarke pouts as her friends just nod in acceptance of Raven’s vague explanation, the whole group somehow just understanding what Clarke didn’t with a few words. 

“Wait… what did Clarke do?”

“Finn, we have a thing going here, just nod.”

“But—”

“Just nod, Finn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *"One step forward" by Hi-5 plays in a loop* (Don't even ask what brought this banger of a song back into my mind after 12+ years)
> 
> Come chat on insta, I actually check in on that and I'll eventually get around to writing short little gay yearning pieces when I find my focus: @the.unprofessional.writer


	12. Ruining the Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sup my dudes, here ya go. 
> 
> Have some Lexa.

_“Is it your shout, princess?” Lexa receives a weak glare that turns slowly into a defeated nod._

_“I’m rich, remember? And also someone with a lot to make up for. What do you want?”_

That wasn’t the response Lexa was expecting. She was expecting an annoyed huff and to be ignored, or maybe a simple ‘fuck off’. She was not prepared to be faced with the sorrow and _exhaustion_ that flooded Clarke’s eyes, and the defeated slouch that made her look smaller than she already is; smaller than she looked last night when she gave her a whole tub of brownies (which, to both Lexa’s annoyance and glee, were _fucking delicious_ ).

Lexa feels a soft tap on her shoulder, bringing her back to Clarke’s tired blue eyes and weak attempt at a jab.

“Lexa, now or never, please.” She had been in a good mood which, to her confusion, made her smartass remarks to Clarke seem more like playful banter. And that wasn’t her goal. 

“I don’t need your pity, princess.”

“That’s not what—” She watches as Clarke sighs, shaking her head and turning to a confused Raven. “What do you want?”

“Uh, pasta bake, please.” Clarke nods, leaning back to look behind Lexa whose furrowed brow and deep, thoughtful pout drew Raven’s attention. She looked at her with a similar look to her own, deep frown and an obvious question in her eyes: _“What was that?”_

“Yo, Monty! What do you want?” Lexa’s frown disappeared in an instant, quickly turning into a look of childlike excitement as she turned to find Monty, cheeks flushed a soft pink, standing behind her, and looking just as she had remembered. 

“Uh, oh. The… the pasta bake, please.” Once Clarke had nodded in response and turned to order the food, Lexa gave a gentle tap to Monty’s pink cheek, earning her wide eyes and a splitting grin. 

“Long time no see, Green.” He released a nervous chuckle.

“It’s good to see you, Woods.” She grinned, grabbing him by the shoulder and bringing him into a tight hug. Lexa released a breath, remembering the moments of solace that she found with Monty during classes all those years ago, his gentle and accepting nature always made her feel at home. And she hadn’t felt at home for a long time. 

“Uh, guys? I don’t want to ruin the moment or anything but, what the fuck is happening?” Lexa feels one of Monty’s hands loosen from the hug to, she assumes, flip Raven the finger. Her guess turns out to be correct when she finally releases him from the hug and turns to see a pouting Raven.

“Lose the pout, Reyes, it doesn’t look good for Arkadia’s resident nuisance.” Raven’s eyes light up, a shit-eating grin replacing her pout.

“I see my introduction left quite the impression on you then.”

“Of course, I’m not a complete ass.” Lexa says with a chuckle.

“I mean, you didn’t accept my handshake so, until that is rectified, I’m gonna have to hold on that judgement.” With a roll of her eyes, Lexa extends her hand, impressed with the firm grip that Raven accepts it with and enjoying the satisfied upward tilt of her chin at the recognition. Suddenly, Lexa turns, eyes wide and child-like in her excitement as she faces Monty.

“Do you remember our handshake?” A similar expression appears on Monty’s face as he enthusiastically nods, extending his hand to Lexa and perfectly replicating the handshake that they had created twelve years ago. Lexa laughs, immediately going in for another quick hug. “It’s so good to see you again, Monty.” His embrace tightens. 

“You too, Lexa.”

Lexa turns back to Raven after her and Monty release each other from the hug, offering her fist for a bump and laughing at the giddy expression that takes over her features.

“Really?” Lexa shrugs.

“It’s a gay thing.” Raven’s chest puffs out as she gently bumps her fist with Lexa’s, Monty chuckling quietly behind them. “Anyway, I should probably go before princess gets back. I’ll see you guys around, yeah?”

“Of course.”

“Great to officially meet The Great Lexa Woods!” Lexa shakes her head fondly as she turns away and heads towards Luna and the rest of her friends that were kind enough to accept her into their little group. She turns towards the cafeteria for a brief moment, noticing Niylah talking to Clarke.

And Niylah standing obnoxiously close to Clarke. 

And Clarke relaxing into her presence. 

_“Since when were they friends?”_

She shakes her head, reaching the table and greeting her new friends. 

“What took you so long, Lex?” Luna asks as Lexa takes her seat, placing herself between Luna and Echo.

“Looks like she was making some more friends.” Nyko spoke softly from his place next to Luna, Roan snickering beside him.

“More like flirting with the Reyes girl.” He wiggled his eyebrows playfully, graciously accepting the small kick he received from a laughing Lexa. 

“Monty and I were friends way back when. Reyes just so happened to be there,” she sends a pointed look to Roan, “though she seems pretty cool.”

“It’s cute that you guys have reunited.” Luna says with fondness. “I can’t imagine how nice it must feel to have an old friend back.” Lexa nods with a wistful smile, sinking low into her seat as she reminisces on DIY science experiments with Monty in his backyard. 

“So, what’s the go with Niylah and Clarke, aye?” Lexa’s eyes snap to Echo, who is not so subtly looking over her shoulder to watch their interaction. “Has Niylah made a move yet?”

“What do you mean?” Roan lets out a deep chuckle at Lexa’s confused frown.

“She’s had a crush on Clarke since we were freshman.”

“She was always too nervous to talk to her, though.” Nyko adds.

“Yeah, she’s finally stopped being a pussy.” A wave of pride washes over Echo’s features, “Our girl has grown so much.” While the rest of the group laugh, Lexa turns to watch how easily Clarke seems to be talking to Niylah. She notices how relaxed they both seem together, and something new settles in her stomach.

And she doesn’t like how it feels.

“Why exactly would she go after Clarke? Is straight and ignorant her type?” Everyone smirks softly, some giving an indifferent shrug while others share a look of understanding with Lexa.

“She’s actually super nice, though,” Luna responds, “even though she has had her moments in the past. She seems to have changed a lot in the last week or so, though. Or over summer, I guess. I wonder what did it.”

“Maybe she had an epiphany.” Roan says casually.

“Or those grandparents of hers finally died.”

“Echo!” 

“What? They’re assholes. That one time I met them back when Bellamy and I were dating I got yelled at for complimenting her grandmother’s shawl. Went off saying that ‘my lifestyle is a disgrace.’ To this day, I have no idea what I did wrong.” Lexa stares at Echo, eyes wide and jaw dropped.

“Wait, say that again?” Echo shared a confused look with the rest of her friends.

“Uhh, back when Bellamy and I were dating?”

“No no, after tha—you dated Bellamy?”

“Yeah, it got awkward after we broke up though. We used to all sit together during breaks, but we kinda drifted after a while.”

“Huh. Okay… anyway, no, about her grandparents?”

“They’re assholes?”

“Because you _complimented_ her grandmother?”

“Yeah? It was super weird, they both immediately got this sneer and started spitting even more than they already did when they spoke. Why?” Lexa looks back over to Niylah and Clarke, processing the information she had just learnt.

_“Well, at least she wasn’t lying.”_ She watches as Clarke seems almost desperate, looking to Niylah for help. She notices the tension between the two; the intensity that she sees in both of their eyes, even from this distance.

_“I guess that would fuck with a kid’s understanding of shit. And, after all, monkey see, monkey do.”_ She notices Niylah suddenly tense, body language getting defensive and Clarke looking confused.

_“As always.”_ She looks away quickly when she sees Niylah abruptly turn away from Clarke. She stares down at the table, turning over the latest events in her mind: the defeated shell of the arrogant blonde that she remembers from first grade, the shine in Raven’s eyes when she told her ‘it’s a gay thing’, and the fuzzy feeling she got hugging Monty again. 

_“They seem to be giving her even more shit than I am for what she did.”_ She looks up when Niylah reaches their table, giving her a soft ‘hey’ before focusing her attention back on the table, missing her glare and clenched jaw. She mulls over the story Echo told, and her friend’s opinions of Clarke. She sighs, running her fingers through her thick curls and resting her chin on her propped-up fist. 

_“So much has changed here.”_

“Soooooo, how’d it go?” Her thoughts are interrupted by Roan, once again wiggling his eyebrows as the rest of the group all stare intently at Niylah, eager for details. 

“Fine.” Roan frowns.

“…what do you mean, ‘fine’? What did you guys talk about?” Niylah’s eyes meet Lexa’s, a mixture of anger, sadness, and defeat swimming within them. She looks away, focusing intently on pulling her lunch out from her bag and setting it up on the table.

“Nothing important.”

____________________

After school, Lexa heads into the centre of town, cruising down the main road on her motorbike in the afternoon sun. She comes to a stop in front of an old building, run down and empty, looking as if it had been that way for years. She had found this place on the day she first moved back to Arkadia, passing it on her way to her new home. It had had an old ‘for sale’ sign precariously hanging from one of the windows and, with the small fortune that she had inherited from her parents, she had immediately made an enquiry. 

It was cheap. Rightfully so, too. It stank of mould and dust and it looked like people had found joy in causing as much destruction as they could to the interior. Lexa had an image already in her head as soon as she had seen it, and it had quickly become her project. It served as an escape from her empty house and gave her time to think away from the crushing silence. 

After a week, she had finally finished clearing out the old interior. It was a large space, and it had a basement that had been locked for years, so considering the amount of debris she had to clear, then create, then clear again, she was quite impressed with herself and her current pace. 

Clad in nothing more than a sports bra and boxing shorts, she stood in the centre of the space, admiring her work as sweat rolled down her spine.

_“I really need to look into some air-conditioning for this place.”_ She picks up her phone and looks at the time, grabbing her bag and a long pole as she heads for the door. She makes a beeline for the fire escape on the side of the building, walking into the alley and, with the hook attached to the end of the pole, lowers the ladder and makes her way up. 

This had been her favourite part of the building. While it was only one story high, the walls were taller than most of the other buildings in town and, because of this and the central location, the rooftop provided a beautiful view of the tiny town. She sat with her legs dangling off the edge, facing towards the main street and waiting for the truck that was supposed to arrive shortly with her delivery. 

She watched as people passed, taking long drinks of water as she waves to the kids that saw her up on the roof and pointed and tugged on their parent’s sleeve. 

“Woods?” She looked down, seeing a head of shaggy curls and brown eyes squinting up at her.

“Bell! Come on up!” She smiled as he did so without hesitation, making his way up the ladder and carelessly sitting beside her, legs dangling over the side with hers. 

“Nice tattoos.” Lexa raises an eyebrow and smiles in response, sipping on her water casually and appreciating how Bellamy didn’t drill her for meanings or explanations in regards to the intricate patterns and shapes scattered across her exposed skin. “So. Whatcha doin up here?” She wiggled her eyebrows, extending her arms dramatically to sweep across the general area of the building.

“Welcome to the future best boxing gym in Arkadia! Also the only boxing gym in Arkadia. Actually, I’m pretty sure it’s gonna be the only gym in Arkadia, too. This place really doesn’t have much to do, does it?” Bellamy, impressed, laughs and nods in agreement as he surveys the rooftop view.

“We have good ol’ fashioned sports, underaged drinking, and sports while drinking underaged.”

“Ah, so you guys actually have everything, and _more?!_ ” She laughs as he shoves her gently, smiling as he stares out further into the distance.

“See that park over there?” Lexa nods once she finds the park he is pointing to at the edge of the town. “We hang out there. The police tend to leave it alone, so we can get away with doing almost anything. Provided our parents don’t find out what that is.” He gives a mischievous grin. “I’m heading there now. You’re welcome to join?”

“Thanks, Bell, but I have to wait here for a delivery. Plus, I tend to try and avoid the princess as much as I can.” Bellamy nods in acceptance, though turns to her with a look more serious than she thought Bellamy could produce. 

“She’s really not that bad, you know? We all know she fucked up, but it was a long time ago. And she is desperately trying to be better. It’s just gonna take some time before she figures everything out.” Lexa’s eyebrows furrow.

“What exactly has she got to figure out?” Bellamy huffs out a quick laugh.

“A lot. Mostly just how to respond to people and think outside the box that her grandparents built for her. A few other things too, but that’s really just us kinda being dicks to her.” Lexa sits in silence for a few moments, wondering just how much of an influence Clarke’s grandparents had on her life when she had only said that they had been there for a summer.

“I thought her grandparents were only there a little bit? That they just took care of her while her parents were at work?” Her frown deepens when Bellamy shakes his head sadly. 

“Jake and Abby are great. Like, _really_ great. But they were also quite young when they had Clarke. They both graduated when Clarke was four, so up until then Jake’s parents were almost like her actual parents. When they decided to open their own practice in this tiny ass town, it wasn’t until Clarke was maybe eight or nine before they felt secure enough to take a step back from it.” He looked over to Lexa with a sadness that Lexa couldn’t quite place. “She was practically raised by her severely homophobic, misogynistic, and xenophobic grandparents. Jake basically disowned his parents when he found out Clarke had made some comments to some kids about being Muslim, and they worked super hard and quick to re-teach her everything. And they did a fucking good job, too. Like, she apologised immediately. And _profusely_.” Lexa nods in understanding. “But it is still a small, Christian town. People have only just started being open about their sexualities, and apparently they hadn’t known that Clarke had also learnt some of that shit.”

“I… didn’t know that.”

“Most people at school know about it. Her grandparents had a way of inserting themselves into everyone’s life at some point, so almost everyone has a shitty story about them.” 

“Like Echo, back when you two apparently dated?” She laughs as his cheeks flush a deep pink, shaking his head fondly as he nudges his shoulder against Lexa’s. “Clarke is a quick learner,” he continues, “and she absolutely adores her parents. _And_ her friends. You haven’t seen it yet, but she would do anything for us. And… and we’ve been giving her a lot of shit for this too, and I think we’ve forgotten what a good person she actually is.”

“Yeah, she seems pretty… down.”

“Yeah…” He nods sadly, shaking his head as he stands up. “I was already late, so I should probably go. And hey, great timing.” Lexa stands too as a truck pulls up in front of the building. She goes in for a quick hug.

“Have fun, Bell.”

“You’re still welcome to come. Anyway, good luck with building the best boxing gym in Arkadia.” His eyes go soft, his jaw clenching as he places a hand on Lexa’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you for coming back. I know it must be hard… I really missed you.” Lexa gives a watery smile.

“I missed you too, Bell.”

Once they descend the ladder and Lexa uses the pole to push it back up, they go in for one final hug before going their separate ways. 

“Alexandria Woods?” Lexa gives a soft, dry laugh.

“Yeah, that’s me.”

_____________________

Once the delivery guy had left, she made her way back home. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow across her street that made the asphalt shimmer and the blonde hair of her neighbour glow. She parks her bike in the garage, stopping to watch Clarke as she sits on her front lawn with what looks to be a sketchbook in her hands. 

_“What happened to being at the park?”_ Before she thinks too much on it, Lexa makes her way across the street, her shadow blocking the light for Clarke’s book and alerting her to her presence.

“I thought you were gonna be at the park?” She tilts her head as Clarke releases a tired sigh, putting her head back down and returning to moving her hand carelessly across the page.

“I didn’t feel up to it… how do you know about the park?”

“I saw Bell in town. We chatted. He invited me along.”

“Then why aren’t you at the park?”

“Because I thought you’d be there, and, no offense, princess, I don’t really like your company.” Lexa frowns as Clarke just nods, hunched over her sketchbook that rests on her crossed legs. 

_“What's up with her? Where's her fight?”_ Hesitant, she approaches Clarke, standing over her and peering over her shoulder to try and get a look at what she was doing. 

“You’re blocking my light.”

“You’d rather sit here and draw than hang out with your friends?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, Lexa, but yes. Yes, I would.” Lexa takes a step back at the weak challenge that burns in Clarke’s eyes. 

“Why?” 

“Why do you care, exactly?”

“I don’t, I’m just curious.”

“Well, that sounds pretty close to caring to me.”

“It really doesn’t, princess.”

“Just… what do you want, Lexa?”

“I want to know why you’re sitting on your front lawn instead of having fun with your friends.”

“I am having fun.”

“But not with your friends.”

“I don’t need my friends constantly around me to have fun, Lexa.”

“But I thought a bully needs their posse?” Lexa jumps as Clarke slams her book shut, quickly standing and facing her with a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes. 

“For fucks sake, Lexa, I said _one_ thing to you, _twelve_ years ago. I understand it was wrong and it fucked with your life, so I have apologised. _Profusely_. I have _changed_ , as most people do with time. I am not a bully. I do not have a _‘posse’_. And maybe I just need a fucking break from everyone telling me what a shitty, oblivious person I am.”

“Well, I mean—”

“Just… fuck off, Lexa. I’m tired. I just wanted to draw the sunset in peace, so thanks for ruining the fucking sun for me.” And then she was walking away, shoulders heavy and sketchbook loosely hanging from her hand. Lexa stands there with a look of confusion etched deep into her features, watching the retreating figure until she slams the door of her house behind her.

_“What happened to being apologetic?”_ She walks back home, checking over her shoulder to see if she can see Clarke in any of the windows. She sees her appear in what she assumes is her bedroom window, throwing her book down and tangling her fingers in her hair as she paces. 

_“…is she okay?”_ She doesn’t realise she has stopped in the middle of the road, concern joining the look of confusion she had previously, and full attention on Clarke. That is until Clarke notices her, eyes noticeably red and puffy, even from this distance, and goes to quickly sweep the curtains shut. 

Lexa, perplexed, walks slowly to her house, something heavy settling deep in her gut. She shakes her head, clenching her jaw and replacing the confusion with anger.

_“She’ll be fine.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Lexa is conflicted. And poor Clarke is apparently the only oblivious one. 
> 
> I know some stuff wasn't really explained, but that's because it's coming later. Just so that's clear. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, come chat on insta: @the.unprofessional.writer


	13. Princess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some more Lexa because now I'm jumping between the two perspectives without a pattern because life just be like that sometimes. 
> 
> This one is slightly shorter, but I have already started the next chapter, so that's a thing. 
> 
> Also, you guys can be mean to me in the comments (I mean, I would prefer if you weren't but like, you do you I guess) but don't give each other shit in the comments. If you're calling people names for absolutely no logical reason (as a completely random example: 'insane') I will call you out publicly and will find enjoyment in doing so.
> 
> Thank you to everyone that shows their love and support of this fic, it means a buttload and I very much enjoy reading your lovely comments (even if I don't reply, I see you and I love you.) Don't let other people's negativity dampen your love. 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! Cheers!

Lexa walks into homeroom on Friday morning to find Clarke already there, head resting on folded arms on top of the desk. She takes her seat to Clarke’s left, dropping her bag loudly and placing her boots up on the metal frame of the desk with enough force to make it shake. 

Clarke had avoided her yesterday. It’s not like she was going out of her way to interact with Lexa before, but she never _actively_ avoided her, like changing direction abruptly when she saw Lexa coming or, when another route wasn’t possible, her head would be craned so low that Lexa questioned how she hadn’t walked into anything. And now she refused to lift her head up off her arms, ignoring Lexa’s noise and small attempts at stirring her. 

With a stubborn frown, Lexa nudges Clarke’s leg with her foot, earning herself a small glare from over Clarke’s folded arms.

“Yes?”

“What’s up with you, princess?”

“I’m tired. Let me sleep.”

“You can’t sleep in class.”

“No shit, which is why I’m sleeping in homeroom.”

“You can’t sleep in homeroom, either.”

“Well not with you making so much noise and making the table wobble.”

“Princess—”

“Clarke.”

“I know your name, princess.”

“Then kindly start using it, Alexandria.”

“Don’t call me Alexandria.”

“Don’t call me princess.”

“No.”

“Then tough shit, Alexandria.” Lexa’s frown turns petulant as Clarke buries her face back into her arms, the end of her sentence becoming muffled by her skin.

“You have no right to call me Alexandria.”

“Considering that it is your actual name, I’d say I do. You, however, have no right to call me princess since, sadly, I am not in fact royalty,” Clarke mumbles, eyes still closed as she tilts her face enough to be heard. 

“Only my parents called me Alexandria.”

“Then explain why I, and everyone else here, only ever knew you as Alexandria.”

“I started going by Lexa when I was _forced_ to move out of town. Only my parents still called me it.” Lexa grows increasingly annoyed at the lack of response she is eliciting from Clarke, whose soft features don’t change as the conversation escalates.

“Cool. New town, new name, I gotta respect that attitude, Alexandria.”

“Stop calling me Alexandria.”

“Why are you so against being called your name?”

“Well sorry if hearing it come from the mouth that killed my parents bothers me,” Lexa spits, leaning close to Clarke as her eyes burn and her throat tightens.

“I didn’t kill your parents.”

“If you hadn’t forced me to move, they would still be alive.”

“I didn’t force you to move. Your parents took that initiative. I was six, I said one horrible thing and yes, starting a whole chain reaction, but that chain ended when you left.” Clarke finally opens her eyes, blank and unfocused. “I didn’t kill your parents.” 

Lexa was fuming because, for the first time with the blonde, she didn’t have a response. She just sat, staring into Clarke’s tired blue eyes with a clenched jaw and flared nostrils. 

“You have no idea what’s happened since I left.”

“Then enlighten me.” It’s not the words themselves that make Lexa blink and lean back in her chair, but the earnest promise in Clarke’s eyes that tell Lexa that she would listen; she would listen and then react from there, not any sooner. 

_“What is with this girl?”_ Before she can formulate a response, the bell rings, sending Clarke slowly to her feet, defeat still weighing heavily on her posture as she lifts her bag onto her shoulder and turns to Lexa.

“I’ll see you in maths.” And then she is gone, leaving Lexa alone to deal with the heartfelt eyes of the girl she hates, that swims in her mind and tugs at her heart. 

___________________

“You okay, Lex?” Lexa swivels her head from facing the back of the room to be met with Luna’s concerned brown eyes.

“Yeah, sure. Why?” Luna lets out an amused exhale, flickering her eyes to the back of the room to where Clarke sat in the same position she was in during homeroom: her head down on folded arms.

“Did something happen with you and Clarke?” 

“Pfft, no.” The stern features that Lexa quickly puts in place crumbles when she sees Luna’s eyebrow raised, unimpressed and expectant. “She’s just acting weird.”

“How so? She just looks tired.”

“Tired of what, though?”

“Uhhh, not sleeping?” Luna shakes her head at Lexa’s annoyed eye roll, laughing softly before nodding softly towards Clarke. “That is how she always looks when she didn’t sleep much. Usually that means she was up painting, or she had a sleepover with Octavia and Raven.” Lexa frowns.

“She paints?” Luna stares at Lexa incredulously.

“Dude, everyone knows that about her. She always comes to school covered in paint and, if that isn’t enough proof for you, she is also _fucking dominating_ in art class. No one can compete with her. She has won every award this place has to offer for art.”

“…I’ve never seen any paint on her.” Luna shrugs. 

“Well, maybe she just hasn’t been painting lately. I dunno like, we’re friends, but we’re not ‘talk about our feelings and discuss our passions’ type friends.” Luna sighs as Lexa’s frown deepens. “You know, you could always just ask her.”

“We aren’t friends.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t be.” She rolls her eyes at the pointed look Lexa gives her, sighing again in defeat. “I dunno what to tell you then, Lex. I know what she did was shitty and everything that’s happened to you since has been shitty too, but you can’t hold on to this anger forever. It’ll just destroy you.” Lexa clenches her jaw, grateful for Jaha to finally show up and start class so she can turn her attention away from Luna and, more importantly, away from Clarke. 

__________________

The bell rings and everyone starts packing away their books, standing to throw their bags over their shoulders before Jaha quickly tells everyone to sit for a few more moments. Lexa, who hadn’t yet left her seat, turns her head to the back of the class—for what seemed like the millionth time that lesson—to see if Clarke had even lifted her head off her arms. Lexa frowned when she saw Clarke with her chin resting on her arms which, surprisingly, is the most of Clarke’s face that had been visible over her arms for the last hour.

“Sorry guys, class ran longer than expected,” Jaha smiled sheepishly. “I have marked your homework from Wednesday and have assigned partners for the small assignment that you all will be completing over the next eight weeks.” A rumble of low groans arises from the class, causing Jaha to chuckle as he rifles through the papers on his desk.

“Who even does group maths assignments?” Lexa huffs out a small laugh at Luna’s annoyed tone and dramatic sigh. 

“It could be good though.” She smirks when Luna just stares at her, eyes dead and annoyed.

“Of course you’d be up for this kinda shit, nerd.”

“I’m not a nerd.”

“You are one hundred percent a nerd, Woods.”

“I—”

“So,” Jaha speaks once again, promptly interrupting Lexa’s comment (that, she believed, would have been phenomenally savage) and this time holds a crumpled piece of paper in front of him, “I will read out your pairing and you will both come up and grab one of these booklets.” He holds up a booklet that easily has one hundred pages in it, all filled with hundreds of questions that would have to be completed.

“Don’t start drooling, Woods.” Luna laughs when Lexa just rolls her eyes. 

Jaha starts reading out names and, to Lexa’s annoyance, takes his sweet time doing so. Luna is one of the first called and gets paired with some girl that Lexa didn’t know called Fox. The class slowly filters out, leaving only a few students when Clarke is called.

And then Lexa is called. 

_“You can’t be serious.”_ Lexa watches in disbelief as Clarke walks by her and up to Jaha to grab two of the booklets. She watches as Jaha says some words to her, stern, though Lexa can tell there is a softness to the words and a tenderness that makes Lexa question what had happened to make the strict, hard-ass that is Jaha be so gentle with Clarke. Or anyone. 

She watches as Clarke nods and smiles weakly, turning slowly away from him and letting out a breath. 

She watches as Clarke makes her way over to her desk, eyes dark and tired and defeated as she gently places the booklet on the desk in front of Lexa and then walks out the door without a word, her own booklet hanging loosely from her hand just as her sketchbook had the other day. Lexa sighs as she grabs the booklet and her bag, flinging it onto her shoulder carelessly and striding out the door.

_“Of fucking course.”_

_________________

“So, when are we starting this assignment, princess?” Lexa finds Clarke at the end of the day, sitting on the brick wall at the front of their school that displays a greeting and introduction to the campus. When Clarke doesn’t respond, but continues scrolling through her phone, Lexa pokes her in the shoulder.

“Princess.” No response. She nudges her this time, rocking her balance to her right as she calls her again.

“Princess.” Clarke rights herself and continues scrolling, not even recognising the mild disturbance. 

“…Clarke.” Clarke’s head rises, blank eyes staring into Lexa’s as she locks her phone.

“Yes, Lexa?”

“What happened to calling me Alexandria?” Clarke shrugs.

“You’re reasoning for not wanting to be called Alexandria, while flawed, still holds merit. Plus, I figured I’m just gonna ignore you every time you call me princess. Win, win.” At Lexa’s raised eyebrow and petulant frown, the small, tight-lipped smile that sat upon Clarke’s lips drops from her features and she releases a deep sigh. “Can we discuss it next week, please? I really don’t want to deal with everything that is involved with this assignment just yet.”

“We have to get it done, princess.” When Clarke puts her head back down and unlocks her phone, ignoring Lexa once more, Lexa rolls her eyes and growls out a low ‘Clarke’.

“We have two months, Lexa. We can afford to wait two days to start it.”

“It would be better to get it started now, though. Then we will know how to appropriately plan a schedule and know how many questions we need to do every day to get it done with enough time to go over it again to make sure we will be handing in our best work… what?” Clarke stares at her with what Lexa could only describe as amusement, eyebrows raised slightly and soft smirk playing at the corners of her lips. 

“You’re a total nerd.” 

“I am not a nerd. I just… like to be organised.”

“Sure, of course you do. I mean, who doesn’t? But you’re also a huge nerd.” Lexa’s eyes narrow and she brings herself to her full height stepping slightly forward so that, if she decided to bend down, she would come face to face with Clarke. 

“Stop calling me a nerd, princess.” Clarke rolls her eyes and slides off the wall, coming to stand in front of Lexa. She has to look up slightly, not just because of the height difference, but because she is too close to see anything other than Lexa’s lips if she were to look straight ahead. 

She says nothing, just stares at Lexa with a challenge burning in her eyes. Lexa stares back down into Clarke’s, resolve wavering at the conflicting emotions she sees swimming within them. She huffs, diverting her eyes for a moment before she comes back to them. 

“Clarke.” 

“You can’t hide who you are Lexa.” Lexa frowns, taking a step back to search Clarke’s face more easily. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Clarke smirks.

“It means you’re a nerd. And the sooner you accept it, the sooner you will find happiness in yourself.”

“Oh… I thought you meant about the gay thing.” Lexa takes another step back when Clarke huffs and throws her arms weakly in the air.

“My God, Lexa, I don’t care. You do you, it doesn’t affect me in the slightest.”

“Are you sure about that?” It’s Clarke’s turn to narrow her eyes, folding her arms across her chest and clenching her jaw. 

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Lexa steps forward once again, smirk firmly in place. 

“You tell me, princess.” Clarke shakes her head angrily, defeat once again filling her eyes and Lexa could swear that they got a bit watery, too. 

“Why are you—”

“Uhh, hey guys.” Clarke stops abruptly, both her and Lexa turning quickly to find Octavia and Raven awkwardly hovering next to them. 

“We uhhh,” Octavia shares a nervous look with Raven, “sensed some… tension.” Clarke sighs, shoulders slumping.

“It’s fine.”

“You sure about that, princess?” Raven’s eyes go wide as Clarke’s previous anger is suddenly directed at her.

“ _Don’t_ call me princess.” 

“I just—”

_“Don’t.”_ Lexa watches in confusion as Clarke walks off, pulling her bag onto both shoulders and makes her way down the street in the direction of home. After a few moments of watching her retreating figure, she turns to Raven who, similar to her, is watching Clarke with an open mouth and furrowed eyebrows. 

Octavia breaks her out of confusion by whacking her in the stomach, sending her folding slightly forward and bringing her attention to her friend’s narrowed eyes. 

“What the fuck was that, Raven?”

“What did I do?”

“You _know_ she hates being called princess.”

“Yeah but, she—we were—what about the—?” Raven, at a loss, looks to Lexa.

“…I have no idea what just happened.” Lexa turns to Octavia at her scoff.

“How could you not know what happened? What were you guys talking about?”

“I asked her when we were starting our maths assignment.”

“…You guys are partners for that assignment she was complaining about the other day?”

“…Yes?”

“Oh, for fucks sake.” Raven flinches as Octavia shakes her head and flails her hands around in exasperation.

“What else did you guys say to each other?” Octavia continues, closing her eyes and bringing her hand up to press her fingers against the bridge of her nose.

“Uhhh, how she has decided to ignore me whenever I call her princess instead of Clarke?” Octavia stares at her for a moment before turning her body to face Raven, entirely unimpressed and glare so stern Raven begins to cower away from her. 

“…How was I supposed to know that?” Octavia huffs, grabbing Raven by the bicep and dragging her towards the carpark. 

“We’ll see you next week, Lexa.”

“Uhh, okay? Bye?”

“Bye, Lexa!” Raven calls over her shoulder, turning as much as she could to wave at Lexa with Octavia’s grip still firmly on her bicep.

_“Bye?”_

Lexa makes her own way to the carpark, following far behind Octavia and Raven who appeared to be arguing, if Octavia’s regular backhand slaps to Raven’s stomach were any indication. She watches as they get into a beat-up ute, Raven behind the wheel, and quickly make their way out of the carpark and down the street. Lexa, while thinking through the events that had just transpired, gets onto her motorbike and prepares to head into town to work more on the gym. 

It was coming together. Today she just wants to finish laying down the rubber flooring and give the walls another coat of paint so then, over the weekend, she will be able to start putting the equipment together and setting the space out the way she wants. 

On her bike, she makes her way down the street in the same direction Octavia and Raven had driven and, only a little way up, she sees the car driving comically slow right against the curb. As she gets closer, she slows and she sees Octavia hanging out of the passenger side window, talking to an angry Clarke who continues to walk up the street, back to her friends and ignoring their desperate whines. 

“C’mon, Clarke, we’ll make it up to you, promise!”

“Yeah,” Lexa hears Raven call out from the driver’s side, sticking her head out of the window and lifting herself to see over the top of the ute, “we can order pizza and have a Harry Potter marathon and buy a buttload of snacks and…” and then Lexa was past them, looking into her mirrors to watch Clarke adamantly refuse to pay any attention to her friends who, to Lexa’s concern, were now both hanging precariously out of their respective windows, Raven still slowly driving behind Clarke. 

_“What is that all about?”_ She quickly makes her way into town, making a beeline for the gym and desperately trying to shake Clarke and her tired eyes from her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clarke be pissed and... do I... sense... tension?!
> 
> Come chat on insta, I promise I'll eventually get around to writing cute little gay shit and making some dank ass memes: @the.unprofessional.writer


	14. The Gummy Bear Analysis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been almost a month and I apologise profusely. Shit has hit the fan at work because of the virus and I've been too tired and annoyed to do anything other than brood and occasionally sleep.
> 
> This chapter is the longest so far, and honestly that's only because it got out of hand and now I need to add a whole new thing into the story because of it. (Thanks, me)  
> Also please forgive any errors, I edited this after waking up from a nap 30mins ago and I do NOT do well with napping.
> 
> Hope you enjoy, once again, I do read all your comments and I love all of you endlessly. Cheers!
> 
> DISCLAIMER: This chapter 'explains' some sexualities and the concept of gender identity. I'm a mere androgynous lesbian so I am in no way an expert, but I did my best. If you have an issue with the way something is written, let me know and I'll fix it, cheers!

Clarke was tired. 

_“Don’t call me princess.”_

She was exhausted.

_“I just—”_

She was drained.

 _“Don’t.”_

And she was done. 

_“Screw waiting for them to give me a lift, I’ll just fucking walk.”_

Clarke was walking quickly, her head down and arms crossed across her chest as she heads home, leaving Raven, Octavia and Lexa to act like innocent parties in all the events that had transpired in the last week. 

She admits to herself that it was deserved. The key word there being _‘was’_. Her shoulders sag as she drags her feet as quickly as she felt able, trying to put as much distance between herself and Raven and Octavia, who, as history has shown, will eventually catch up to her and dramatically beg for forgiveness from the window of the car just like in all those horrible rom-coms that like to depict it as flattering. 

_“I don’t know what else I can do. Why can’t they just fucking… help? Instead of being dickheads that taunt and mock me… like a little fucking guidance would be fab, you fuckos.” Clarke shakes her head, trying desperately to keep the tears that she had fought all day from falling. “I’m doing my best… I’m just trying to do my best…”_

Her sniffling is interrupted by a car horn and the voices of her friends, just as she had predicted. 

“Clarke? Clarkey! Clarrrrkkeeee! Claaaarrrkeeyyyy!” Clarke turns to look over her shoulder but doesn’t stop walking.

“What do you want, Octavia?” She sighs, exhaustion dripping from every syllable and, if Octavia’s sympathetic look is any indication, glowing dull in her eyes. 

“Raven’s sorry.” Clarke tilts a single eyebrow and returns her gaze ahead of her, arms still firmly crossed against her chest. She hears a muffled whack and Octavia whisper yell ‘say you’re sorry’ to Raven. She rolls her eyes and huffs out a breath, once again fighting the tears that try so hard to spill down her cheeks. 

“It’s true, I am terribly sorry. Truly!”

“Can you try to sound more genuine, please? And less like some British kid trying to trick their nanny into not putting them in time out?”

“That was oddly specific, O.”

“Just fucking apologise properly you dicknut.”

“Clarke!” As Raven’s voice carries clearer, Clarke turns to see her sticking her head out the window and lifting herself slightly to see over the hood of the car. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop saying it, I promise.” Clarke just shakes her head, returning her attention to the footpath in front of her.

“C’mon, Clarke, we’ll make it up to you, promise!” Clarke shakes her head gently, flicking her gaze to her right as a familiar motorbike flies past, its rider watching her over their shoulder.

“Yeah,” Raven adds as she props herself high enough to almost be sitting on the edge of the open window, “we can order pizza and have a Harry Potter marathon and buy a buttload of snacks and help you get started on that assignment and brainstorm some ways to ensure Lexa won’t hand you your ass again!” At that, Clarke stops, abruptly turning towards her friends who were trying to regain their balance and hoist themselves back into the car after Raven had slammed on the brakes. 

“Why do you think I would want to waste more time trying to get Lexa to forgive me?” Clarke glares as Octavia and Raven blink stupidly. “Well?”

“Oh, uhh… you know, so that… uh…”

“Maybe you guys could be friends?” Raven flinches away from Octavia who elbowed her roughly in the ribs. “I swear, woman, one more time and you can stutter all on your lonesome.” Octavia rolls her eyes and turns towards Clarke.

“I was gonna say so, you know, you guys can complete that assignment without too many, uhh… hiccups?”

“Yeah, well,” Clarke runs her fingers through her hair, turning away exasperatedly before facing the car once again, all anger gone from her eyes, “maybe you should go brainstorm with her and find some ways for her to be a little less of an asshole.”

“Clarke, you can’t really blame her—”

“And I didn’t! I don’t, I just—I just don’t understand what more I can do.” She gestures aggressively and begins to pace back and forth along the sidewalk, slowly become more frantic as she continues. “I have apologised, I have given her space, I have tried to offer my help, I have literally offered to do things with the reason being ‘I have a lot to make up for’, and she only gets _worse._ I don’t know how I can get any better when everything I do is met with more and more resistance.”

“Well, maybe—”

“And then you guys aren’t making it all that easy, either! You’re constantly mocking me for being oblivious and ignorant and whatever but you don’t actually _help me_ understand what it is I’m oblivious about! I’m currently just the butt of every one of your jokes and I’m fucking—I don’t fucking know what to do anymore…” She trails off, rubbing angrily at her face and eyes as she stands alone on the sidewalk. 

She hears the engine of the ute cut off and then the slam of its doors. 

“Clarke, we’re really sorry, okay? We just thought that maybe some tough love would… help?”

“Yeah, well,” Clarke looks up angrily, her face red and blotchy and eyes shining with unshed tears, “it might’ve worked for the first few days but now it just fucking hurts. How am I supposed to… _improve_ when you guys refuse to tell me what I need to work on? Or even what I have done right lately?” She looks desperately between Octavia and Raven, both of them now standing with her on the sidewalk. 

“We’re sorry, Clarke, we—”

“SORRY DOESN’T MEAN SHIT! I’ve been apologising for days and it apparently means nothing, why should it mean something coming from you?” Raven flinches, looking to Octavia for help as Clarke glares, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

“You’re right, Clarke. We just… we didn’t realise you were struggling so much with this.”

“Yeah, you usually brush things off super easy, we didn’t think that Lexa would be the thing that would weigh on you this heavily.” Clarke tilts her head backwards, closing her eyes as she wills herself not to break. 

“I don’t know what’s happening, Raven. I just… I fucked up big time, but it was so long ago, and now… now I have to try and fix something that I didn’t even know,” she says as she releases a deep sigh, “that I didn’t even know meant something, you know?” She watches nervously as Raven slowly approaches her, bringing her hands up to her shoulders and bringing her in for a tight hug. 

“We’ll do better. We’ll be better. Just like you.” 

And Clarke broke, sobbing heavily on Raven’s shoulder and shaking uncontrollably as Octavia wraps her arms around her from behind, all of them huddled on the sidewalk for all of their peers to see. 

\-----------------------

“So, how is my obliviousness now?”

The three of them had eventually found their way back into the ute, Raven driving in silence to the store to grab snacks before they all headed to Clarke’s house. Now, sprawled across Clarke’s bedroom floor, Raven scribbles scores on the whiteboard that Clarke never uses for her non-existent study plan as Octavia ponders Clarke’s questions and assesses her progress through a mouthful of gummy bears. 

“I’d say a four out of ten.”

“Wow, Clarke,” Raven says, scribbling the score opposite the numbers that they had decided were Clarke’s figures for the week prior, “that’s a huge jump from that nine out of ten.” Clarke hums, still wary and exhausted, as she steals some gummy bears straight from Octavia’s hands, ignoring the squinty glare directed at her. 

So far, they had assessed her obliviousness, her ignorance, how self-absorbed she is, her sarcasm, her twerking technique, her pancake obsession, and how much of an ally she is.

“Actually, no. Make that a five, the whole Niylah thing adds a digit.” Raven nods enthusiastically, correcting her scribbles as Clarke frowns.

“What Niylah thing?”

“See?” Octavia says to Raven, pointing at Clarke and shoving more gummy bears into her mouth. Clarke sighs.

“Guys. What did we just talk about on that sidewalk?” She watches as Octavia drops her hand and looks away, quickly muttering an apology before looking to Raven for help.

“…What?”

“How do we explain the Niylah thing?”

“Oh,” she faces Clarke, eyes blank and voice unwavering, “Niylah has a thing for you.” Octavia chuckles at the look of pure shock and confusion on Clarke’s face, almost choking on her gummy bears as Raven crawls over to thump her on the back. 

“She… what?”

“Yeah, Clarke,” Octavia coughs, “she’s had a thing for you for a while. Probably only just got the balls to start doing something about it, though.”

“Oh… so… she’s gay?” Both Octavia and Raven fondly shake their head.

“Better change that five to a six, Raven.”

“Guys! Please? Just… I know I didn’t notice all this stuff with sexualities but… can you guys just give me a run through? Please? At least of the people I talk to often enough, so I don’t make even more of a dick of myself?” Her wide, pleading eyes have never failed to turn her friends soft, so, with a sigh, Raven sits up and begins quickly reciting names and sexualities. 

“Niylah is bi and leans towards girls. She has a huge crush on you but also weirdly thinks Jasper is ‘kinda cute in a dorky way.’” Octavia laughs at the look of disgust that crosses Raven’s faces as she air-quotes the statement. “I, as you found out earlier this week, am also bi. I don’t think I have a preference, but who really knows. Miller is gay; he apparently has a cute ass boyfriend who we have never met, but we believe him because we’re nice.” 

Clarke nods, focusing as hard as she can to remember all of it. She glances at Octavia to see if she is as interested as she is, but instead finds her surrounded by gummy bears, throwing them in the air and trying to catch them in her mouth.

“Monty says that he is questioning; we reckon he has a small crush on some straight jock in his chemistry class, but he always changes the topic whenever we ask. Murphy is bi, but only really brings it up to shut down fuckheads who say biphobic shit to him without them knowing he is bi. And, uhhhhhh… to the extent of my knowledge, everyone else that you talk to is straight.” She huffs out a breath, nodding encouragingly at Clarke who looked deep in thought.

“What about Luna?” Octavia, rubbing the gummy bear residue out of her eye, quickly looks at Clarke.

“Luna?”

“Yeah, Niylah was saying something about Lexa’s brooding… lesbian stereotype or something working on Luna.” Octavia and Raven exchange small smirks, before Raven grabs one of the discarded gummy bears and pops it in her mouth.

“She’s pansexual. And Niylah’s right, that whole brooding thing really works for Lexa.” She nods as Octavia hums in agreement. 

“What’s, uhh… what’s ‘pansexual’?”

“The love of pans,” Octavia quickly dives to the ground to avoid being pelted by discarded gummy bears.

“That is like the lamest joke ever, it’s so overused it’s not even funny anymore. What’s really funny is saying all demisexuals are irrevocably attracted to Demi Lovato.”

“That one’s even worse! But, I mean, Demi Lovato, amiright?”

“You sure you’re straight, O?”

“You’ll never know.” Raven laughs as Octavia narrows her eyes, failing horribly at appearing mysterious.

“Uh, guys?” Octavia and Raven both turn to see Clarke frowning, questions burning in her eyes. 

“Oh, right, sorry. So pansexual is attraction to people regardless of gender. And demisexual is when someone doesn’t experience sexual attraction until an emotional connection has been formed.”

“Yeah, so one-night stands are a no no.”

“Okay… but, uhm… what’s the difference between bisexual and pansexual?”

“Ah, and now we dive into the complexities of gender identity.”

“Do you think she’s ready, Raven?”

“I don’t know, O. But I think it’s time.”

“You guys are ridiculous, google would be way faster.”

“Yeah, but you can’t find such dank banter on google, Clarkeroo.” Octavia chuckles as Clarke shakes her head at Raven and, unimpressed, mouths ‘Clarkeroo’ a few times. “Okay, so there are more than two genders, right? There are the binary genders of boy and girl, but then there is a whole spectrum of in-betweens that I’m not gonna get into because your brain might fall out. So, bisexual is attraction to more than one gender, pansexual is attraction to someone regardless of gender. Kind of. I mean… that’s the basic gist, from my understanding. There are debates, we won’t get into it though. Just take my word that they are in fact different.”

“Oh. Okay. Is anyone at school not… binary?”

“Not that I’m aware of, actually. But, I dunno. I don’t know everyone.” Her friends wait as Clarke processes this information, trying to understand as best she can. “Did your grandparents ever make comments about gender and shit?” Clarke rolls her eyes, huffing in disproval of the mention of her grandparents.

“I dunno. Probably. I don’t remember if they did, though, they were just super hung up on sexualities. I mean, they were pretty strict about the whole ‘you’re a girl, you need to wear a dress and look pretty and play with dolls’ thing but otherwise, I dunno.” They sit in silence for a few moments, Octavia reaching for the second bag of gummy bears before she breaks the silence. 

“So, with that, I’d say Clarke’s obliviousness score gets a nice solid three out of ten.”

“Nice one, Clarkey. We’ll make an aware being out of you in no time.”

\-----------------------

It’s 1am when Clarke hears a familiar motorbike pull into the driveway across the street. The rumble of the engine cuts out and both Octavia and Raven point and are heard muttering ‘Lexa’s home’ from under a pile of blankets on Clarke’s bedroom floor before all attention is returned to Harry being calmly asked if he had put his name in the Goblet of Fire.

After they had assessed Clarke some more, adding in her ability to recite poetry, her Harry Potter trivia skills, the strength of her eyeroll, and how well she could describe the colour of Lexa’s eyes (she begrudgingly gave a masterpiece of a description, earning her her first ten out of ten of the night), they had quickly helped Clarke prepare for the maths assignment, simply writing down the topics that she needed to know to complete it. They also determined that one thousand two hundred and eighty-three questions were far too many, even if it only translated to approximately 23 questions a day for the next fifty-six days. 

Then, after notifying her parents that Octavia and Raven were staying the night (to which Jake informed Clarke that he was under the impression that they already lived there), they ordered far too many pizzas, set up their blanket nests, and began their weekend long Harry Potter marathon.

However, Clarke’s attention was taken from the tense awkwardness that is Harry by the loud clattering and clanging coming from the garage across the street. 

“Lexa is still home.”

“I think Raven might be right.” Clarke rolls her eyes and rises from her nest, making her way over to her window to peek outside. The lights inside the garage are on, illuminating the interior and the figure inside. 

The _shirtless_ figure inside. 

_“What is she doing at 1am?”_

It’s then that she notices the whereabouts of her neighbour’s shirt, wrapped tightly around her hand and, after some thorough squinting, she determines with a frown that the white shirt appeared to be changing colour. 

_“What the…? Oh. OH.”_ Without telling her friends, who were still oblivious to Clarke’s absence from her nest, she makes her way quietly out of the room and down the stairs, quickly slipping on some shoes before carefully letting herself out of the house.

Making a beeline for the garage, Clarke sees Lexa fumbling with a red box which, she hoped, was a first aid kit, one hand still wrapped in the now red and white shirt. 

“You okay?” She stopped in her approach as Lexa jumped, the first aid kit falling to the floor and its contents scattering across the garage. 

“What are you doing here?” Clarke raises an eyebrow at the girl whose voice sounded a few notes higher. She folds her arms across her chest, her hip jutting out as she transfers most of her weight to one leg. 

“I heard a loud noise and looked out my window to see you without a shirt,” Clarke says, eyeing the muscular, tattooed form of her neighbour and trying her best to not stare too intently at the white scar extending from her ribs on her right side to the centre of her abs. 

“So, you just came rushing over to tell me to put a shirt on?” Clarke rolls her eyes, ignoring the remark as she begins to slowly approach Lexa once more. 

“What did you do?”

“Nothing.”

“Lexa.”

“Princess.” Clarke sighs heavily, dropping her chin to her chest as she closes her eyes to regain some semblance of composure. 

“I came over to help, smartass. Do you want it or not?”

“No.”

“Great. Now, do you _need_ it?” A small smirk plays on her lips as she watches Lexa shrink into herself, cradling her left hand and looking hopelessly at the contents of the first aid kit still on the floor. 

“…Yes.” Clarke smiles.

“Now,” Clarke says, confidently entering the garage and bending to collect the scattered items, “was that so hard?” She stands to find Lexa staring at her bare knees, making her aware of the very short sleep shorts and the tank top that dipped just a bit too low when she actually _was_ wearing a bra. 

“Don’t push it, princess.”

“I’m going to ignore that just this once because I know you’re in pain. However, say it again and I will leave you here and take this kit with me so your only choices will be to come knock on my door and ask of help, or simply suffer in silence.” She smiles sweetly at Lexa who, even with her awkward stance and the shadow of fear in her eyes, looked as though she was concocting a plan to end Clarke, there and then. 

“…What do you even know about this sort of stuff?” Clarke, once again, raises a single eyebrow.

“Both my parents work in the medical field and my mother is a doctor who is very competent in minor surgery. Plus, I’m also super good with my hands.” Clarke fails to notice the way Lexa’s eyebrows momentarily shoot up before settling into a deep, confused frown. “Now, sit down and show me your hand.”

Clarke takes a seat at a bench to the side of the garage, pulling another stool out so that Lexa can sit close enough so that she can inspect her hand properly. Lexa makes her way to Clarke, sitting down stiffly while still cradling her hand. 

“You’re gonna have to give me your hand, Lexa.” Both eyebrows rise when it takes Lexa a few seconds to comply, stiffly extending her cradled hand to Clarke. She takes it, nimbly unwrapping the shirt from the hand before expecting the deep gash that ran across the crease that connected her fingers to her palm.

“What the fuck did you do, Lexa?”

“I, uhh… grabbed something wrong.”

“How do you fuck up grabbing something?”

“How do you fuck up a basic cos graph?”

“Hey…” Clarke pulls away from Lexa, letting go of her hand and straightening in her chair. She watches with hurt burning in her eyes as Lexa flinches away, head down and hand still weakly held out towards Clarke. 

“…Sorry.”

“What is your problem, Lexa? I’m just trying to help you.”

“You know what my problem is.”

“Right, I killed your parents because I called you a lesbian twelve years ago, how could I forget those completely related events.”

“If you hadn’t of—”

“—called you that then your parents would still be alive, yes. You already told me that once today, I don’t need to hear it again, thanks.” She grabs Lexa’s hand and brings it to her lap, causing Lexa to lurch forward slightly and unintentionally bring her head level with Clarke’s chest.

“What caused the cut, Lexa?” Clarke asks, rummaging through the first aid kit and ignoring the warmth of Lexa’s hand resting on her thigh and the blood trickling from it. She gets no response in the time it takes her to find the alcohol wipes, a needle and thread, gauze and a bandage. She pays no attention to Lexa as she prepares everything, sterilising her hands quickly with the solution she also finds, and asking Lexa again.

“Lexa?”

“Hmm?”

“What caused the cut?”

“Oh! Uhh, a… box?”

“Lexa, I need to know if there’s gonna be anything stuck in the wound. What did you cut yourself on?”

“…The table?”

“Lexa.”

“A screwdriver?”

“Lexa, I will stab your other hand with this needle.”

“…a knife.”

“A knife. How did you cut yourself with a knife?”

“…I picked it up wrong.”

“Lexa, how do you—what do you mean you picked up a knife wrong?”

“…I grabbed the wrong end.” Clarke stares open mouthed at a furiously blushing Lexa.

“You… okay. Okay. Where is the knife.” Lexa weakly points with her good hand and Clarke follows the line that Lexa’s finger creates, noticing for the first time that the majority of items scattered across the floor are a plethora of pristine knives. 

“Lexa.”

“Yeah?”

“Why do you have so many knives?”

“…I throw them.”

“I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if that were true, but those are kitchen knives.”

“…They were my mother’s.” Clarke’s eyes snap to Lexa, looking small and frail on the stool with her hand still gently resting, palm up, on Clarke’s thigh. “She always wanted to teach me how to cook but I was never interested. I figured I’d… try to now. Maybe. I dunno, whatever.” She shifts uncomfortably, bringing her gaze to Clarke’s soft eyes for the first time in a while. 

“You’re such a softy.” Lexa frowns.

“I am not.”

“You absolutely are.”

“I’m not a softy to you.”

“That doesn’t make you any less of a softy as a whole, though.” Clarke chuckles lightly at Lexa’s pout, grabbing the alcohol wipe and wrapping her fingers lightly around Lexa’s wrist. 

“This is gonna sting.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure you will be.”

“What is that supposed to—” Lexa lets out a loud hiss, flinching and trying to rip her arm from Clarke’s grip. 

“It means that everyone says that, and everyone reacts the same way,” Clarke says once she is done, putting the wipe down and quickly reaching for the needle, tucking her legs underneath her so as to bring Lexa’s hand closer. “Hold still.”

“Wait wait wait!” Clarke looks up, needle poised, and sighs as Lexa’s terrified eyes. “…How much is this gonna hurt?”

“Quite a bit.”

“There isn’t… there isn’t any numbing cream, or something?”

“Not unless you want me to go and wake my parents trying to get to it.”

“Wouldn’t Abby be better at doing this anyway?”

“If it weren’t the middle of the night, yes. But she is honestly quite useless when she first wakes up, and that’s after sleeping for eight hours, so I wouldn’t recommended handing her a needle after only two.” Her grip is soft around Lexa’s wrist as she unconsciously rubs soothing circles on her skin with her thumb. “I’d get Raven to drive you to the hospital but it’s over an hour away and the stitches that will take them, and me, less than five minutes to do will cost you a shitload.” Lexa nods in agreement. 

“…You seriously know how to do this?”

“Yes, Lexa,” Clarke sighs, “I know how to do this. I used to watch my mother stitch up bananas, and I wanted to do it too, so she taught me. And every scar that my friends have were stitched up by yours truly. Do you really think that I would try to do this if I didn’t know I could?”

“Well…”

“Lexa. I said some shit twelve years ago. I’m not a fucking psycho. I don’t dream to bring harm to others, and I don’t go out of my way to hurt people. It does not, in fact, bring me joy. Now, do you want me to do this, or do you want me to just wrap it up and leave it?”

“You can do that?”

“Yes, but it will take way longer to heal and the scar will be significantly larger. It will also be more sensitive once it’s healed. You know, more scar tissue and such.” She waits patiently, as Lexa thinks through her options, her eyes scanning Clarke’s face for sincerity and comfort. 

“Stitches.”

“Great. Hold still, I’ll be quick.” She sets to work, keeping a firm grip on Lexa’s wrist to minimise the movement she causes every time she flinches. She works in silence for a while, getting halfway before Lexa speaks.

“What were you gonna say earlier?”

“Hmm?”

“In front of the school, before Raven and Octavia showed up. You started asking me ‘why I am’ something, but you were cut off.”

“Oh. Yeah, well. It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does.” Clarke pauses her movements to glance up at Lexa, who quickly averted her gaze from somewhere, Clarke was sure, that wasn’t her face. 

“Sorry about my lack of clothes, by the way. I wasn’t expecting to leave my room until tomorrow afternoon.”

“It’s fine.” Clarke raises an eyebrow as Lexa refuses to look back in her direction again, spending the remainder of the time Clarke spent stitching her hand staring intently at an oil stain on the floor. 

“You’re all good. I’ll just wrap it up for you,” Clarke says, cutting the end of the thread and reaching of the gauze and bandage that she had prepared. “Try not to use this hand for a while, okay?”

“How long?”

“Depends. I can check it at school on Monday, or you can pop by whenever if you’re worried about it. Actually, come over tomorrow afternoon, I’ll change the bandage and that and I’ll see if my mother has anything that could help it heal faster.” Lexa nods as Clarke finishes wrapping her hand, tying it securely against the back of her fingers. 

Clarke stands, letting Lexa’s hand fall from her thigh, and cleans up as best she can. She turns back to Lexa to see her staring at the blood left on her thigh, looking conflicted and confused. 

“It’s fine, I’ll wash it off when I get home.”

“There’s, uh… there’s a sink over there, you can at least wash your hands.” Clarke nods, making her way over to the sink, ignoring the deep sigh that Lexa releases.

“So, you don’t know how to cook?” She doesn’t get a response.

“Lexa?”

“Hmm?”

“I asked if you know how to cook.”

“Oh. Uh, no, not really. I can do enough to stay alive, but nothing fancy.”

“Uh huh.” Clarke turns and makes her way back to Lexa, wiping some water from her hands onto her shorts, and once again finding Lexa pink cheeked and staring intently at the floor. “You know, you can give me shit for a lot of things but listening definitely can’t be one of them.”

“What?” Clarke chuckles, shaking her head as she reaches for Lexa’s hand once more, double checking that the bandage is secure. 

“I’ll just leave you to it, then. Remember, you pick up knives at the handle, not at the blade.” Lexa just hums, distracted. “…Goodnight, Lexa.”

“Oh, yeah, night. Thank you.”

Clarke shakes her head, making her way across the street and quietly back into her house. She heads to the downstairs bathroom, grabbing what she needed to properly clean her hands and thigh, deciding to figure out Lexa’s odd behaviour once her blood was no longer dripping down her leg.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now I have to incorporate an injured hand into this story and I am not keen. 
> 
> QUESTION: Are you guys happy with me randomly jumping from POVs and implying events or would you like to keep seeing what has been happening the last few chapters (alternating POVs that overlap)? I'm thinking alternating (and I'll probs do it) but I'd like to get your opinions. 
> 
> Stay safe out there homies. Take caution if you still have to go out in crowded places for work and make the most of the time if you're stuck at home. Take some time to rest, we all need it.  
> 
> 
> ALSO come chat on insta, I PROMISE I will EVENTUALLY post some decent things: @the_unprofessional_writer


	15. Awkward Cleavage Avoidance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sup my dudes. Another chapter of banter and a small amount of plot.
> 
> As always, I do read your comments, I just really suck at replying. I appreciate every kind word you guys have to say and I would punch a douche in the mouth for every one of you.
> 
> I will hopefully start updating more often, but life gets in the way more than I'd like it to (work still sucks ass). I have 500words of the next chapter done though so heres to optimism.
> 
> Hope you enjoy, stay safe out there homies.

Lexa hadn’t slept. Apart from the throbbing of her hand, her interaction with Clarke last night left her feeling… funny. The banter flowed as it usually did which, Lexa realised, was smooth and comfortable, and, as Clarke had done so often in the last week, she had offered her help despite the anger that Lexa worked so hard to show her; despite the animosity that had left Clarke so defeated just that day. 

So, as she tossed and turned and pouted up at the ceiling, Lexa replayed the conversations they had had, and questioned why it was starting to take more and more effort to throw her hatred at Clarke. 

_“’It does’. ‘It does’, who the fuck says that to someone they hate? Who cares what she was going to say? It doesn’t even matter. I don’t even care. Why would I care? I don’t even care.”_

And now in the late afternoon, since Lexa wanted to make sure that Clarke was already awake when she arrived (out of general politeness, of course, nothing else), Lexa approaches her neighbour’s home and timidly knocks four times, stepping back and cradling her hand as she waits for the door to swing open.

“Lexa! Good to see you again kiddo!” The enthusiastic greeting from Jake startles Lexa, surprised by the cheery smile and the same kind blue eyes that make his daughter so confusing.

“Hi, Mr. Griffin. Sorry to interrupt, but Clarke said I should come over?” Jake’s cheery expression dropped slightly to one of amused disproval. 

“Just Jake is fine, Lexa. Please. And yes, Clarke told us as she was raiding Abby’s comically large first aid kit this morning,” he says, waving her inside and leading her into the house and towards the door to their backyard, “and also as we scolded her for once again giving someone stitches.”

“You don’t… you don’t approve of her doing that?” She tilts her head as Jake makes a ‘not quite’ face while he looks for the right words. 

“She’s good. Great, actually, at stitching up small wounds. Between you and me, she may have even given me a few stitches when Abby was away for a conference one weekend. But we’ve told her that when Abby is here it’s best that she just calls her and lets her handle it.”

“She said that Abby isn’t, uh… very alert, when first woken up.” Jake chuckles, opening the sliding door and stepping aside to allow Lexa to move past him.

“That is also true, which is why I think she did the right thing last night. Just don’t tell Abby. Or Clarke. Actually, don’t say a word. My life may depend on it.” He grins playfully at Lexa, earning a small smile and slight nod. 

“Hey, Lexa! Have you learnt how to pick up knives, yet?”

“Shut it, Reyes,” Lexa says, fighting down a smile at the devilish grin of the girl floating on a makeshift raft of pool noodles. She says a small thanks to Jake and then makes her way to the fence that surrounds the pool area, admiring the sleek fixtures that adorn the outside of the pool, along with the sheer size of the pool itself. 

“Hey, Lexa! How’s the hand?” Octavia pops up from behind Raven, silently removing the centre pool noodle of her raft and ignoring the slur of ‘no’s and ‘goddamn it, Octavia’s that Raven yells as she struggles to move the remaining noodles into a workable formation. Lexa smirks, leaning against the fence and still cradling her bandaged hand. 

“Hurts. Where’s the princess?” She raises an eyebrow at the looks on both Raven and Octavia’s faces, moving to stand upright as they share an uneasy look.

“Look, Lexa, I know that Clarke did some shit, and she does seem kinda princess-y, but maybe you should, you know… not call her that anymore?”

“Why?”

“Because we asked nicely.” Lexa turns quickly at Clarke’s voice, and freezes when she takes in the figure walking toward her.

_“Oh goddamn it.”_

When Clarke had walked into her garage the previous night in nothing but ridiculously short sleep shorts and a white tank top, Lexa tried to act like she hadn’t noticed. And, as she likes to believe, she succeeded. That was, until Clarke decided to squat down to pick up the contents of the first aid kit Lexa had dropped, and Lexa couldn’t help but look at the smooth skin that made an appearance as Clarke’s top rode up slightly. 

And then when she put Lexa’s hand on her thigh.

And then when she accidentally brought Lexa’s head level with her chest. 

And then yeah, Lexa was pretty sure that Clarke knew she noticed. 

But now, as Clarke walks towards her with two bottles of water in one hand and a small box in the other, wearing nothing but a light blue bikini that, Lexa thought, had too many haphazardly tied strings instead of actual coverage, Lexa knew that she had already failed at pretending she didn’t notice.

Because she did. 

And she didn’t know why she couldn’t speak.

That was, of course, until her own denim shorts and white tank top where drenched by a wave that Raven had impressively sent from the centre of the pool.

“You good, Lexa?” Lexa stared, open-mouthed, as Raven tried to stifle her snickers and as Octavia covered her mouth to hide her shit-eating grin. 

“Really, guys? Was that really necessary?” She said, unsticking her shirt from her skin and pulling out her phone to inspect it for any damage. 

“I think it was, yes.” And, as Lexa once again turned at the sound of her voice, she fumbled with her phone, bending slightly to catch it in mid-air and momentarily freezing as she realised that this movement brought her, once again, eye level with Clarke’s chest. 

“Uhh,” Lexa stammered, bringing herself to her full height and hoping the heat she feels in her cheeks can’t also be seen, “it really wasn’t, uhh… actually. Not at all. Nope.” However, judging by the single arched eyebrow and amused smirk on Clarke’s face, Lexa would have to guess that yes, it could also be seen. 

“Oh, well now I definitely believe you. Blushing really makes stammering like that believable.” Lexa avoids Clarke’s eyes, turning to see Raven and Octavia floating together on the repaired noodle raft and staring at her with rapt attention. 

“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

“And what exactly am I doing?”

“You know… that.” Lexa makes a vague gesture to Clarke, bringing her hands slightly out to her side and pushing forward before letting them drop back down. 

“What?”

“That.”

“Lexa, you’re gonna have to be more specific.” Lexa glares at Clarke but, to her annoyance, only receives a quiet giggle.

“If by ‘that’ you mean the bikini, then no, I’m just dressed for the occasion. However,” Clarke smirks, handing Lexa one of the waters before opening the gate to the pool and holding it open for Lexa to walk in, “I did do everything after the bikini on purpose. It’s nice to see you not yelling at me for once.”

“So, what, you think flirting is gonna make me hate you less?”

“Pfft, flirting? Sorry to tell ya this Lexa, but that definitely isn’t flirting. That,” she winks, sitting in one of the folding chairs lining the pool and pulling another one closer to her, “is just being aware of how my cleavage looks in a bikini.”

“That’s, uhh… a bit arrogant, isn’t it?” Clarke gives a thoughtful pout and nods, patting the chair next to her in invitation.

“Yeah, but when you get enough creepy dudes staring at your chest, you kinda have to learn to embrace it. Otherwise it’s just uncomfortable and awkward.”

“What, having creepy dudes stare at your chest?” Clarke laughs, once again patting the chair beside her and reaching for the box that she was carrying.

“Well yes, but I meant just having boobs.”

“Ah.” Clarke hums, crossing her legs as Lexa comes to sit beside her. As soon as Lexa situates herself, crossing her legs to mirror her neighbour, Clarke reaches for her hand and rests it on her thigh, just as she had the previous night. 

“On a scale of one to ten, how much does it hurt?” She asks as she rummages through the box, removing some more bandages and a plethora of creams and gels. 

“Maybe a three. An eight when I move it, though.”

“Well the idea is that you don’t move it, Lexa,” she hums, swivelling in her seat so that her and Lexa are facing each other, both with crossed legs and knees only an inch apart. 

“I forget.”

“I know. It happens.” And then she is unwrapping the bandage, leaning over Lexa’s hand as Lexa remains perfectly stiff and upright, tilting her head to look up at the sky and just about everywhere other than the shifting bikini top of the girl in front of her. She scowls at Raven and Octavia, who are both still floating on the noodle raft and smirking at the tension that Lexa is sure is radiating off her body in waves. 

“Are those two always this obnoxious?”

“Hmm?” Lexa sees Clarke shift from the corner of her eye as she nods towards the two floating on the far side of the pool.

“Thing One and Thing Two over there.” Lexa’s head snaps to Clarke as she lets out a full laugh, seeing her grinning at her friends who are now sharing a look of curiosity and suspicion. 

“Oh, absolutely. They’ve never been ones to mind their own business. Or even try hiding the fact that they’re eavesdropping or whatever,” she says with a fond smile, bringing her attention back to Lexa’s hand. “The stitches look good. I’ll just throw some creams on and then wrap it back up, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Are you guys talking about us?” Both Lexa and Clarke turn to see Raven and Octavia at their end of the pool, bringing their chins up to the ledge to stare at them with identical pouts.

“Yes.” 

“Absolutely.”

“You’re now Thing One and Thing Two.” Octavia squints as Raven scoffs, turning to Lexa and pointing in betrayal.

“There’s no way Clarke could come up with something as ingenious as that. What a betrayal, Woods.”

“Hey! How do you know I didn’t come up with that?”

“Please, Clarke. You’re a sarcastic dumbass, but Lexa is a sarcastic dumbass with flare.” Lexa’s smug smile turned quickly to one of angry confusion.

“How am I a dumbass?” She glares between a giggling Octavia and a smirking Raven, asking again with more force and huffing as they both just laugh and push away from the ledge, drifting back out into the centre of the pool.

Lexa turns to Clarke who, if by the way she had sucked in her lips and the corners of her mouth were pulled up were anything to go by, was trying desperately not to laugh as she goes about rubbing something cold into Lexa’s hand.

“How am I a dumbass?” Clarke brings her eyes to look at Lexa before quickly dropping them back down to her hand. 

“Clarke?”

“Yes, Lexa?”

“How am I a dumbass?” Her frown turns into a deep pout at Clarke releases a quick giggle, looking up at her guiltily before letting a wide grin spread across her cheeks.

“It’s just the energy, Lexa.”

“What energy?”

“The dumbass energy. It’s cool, I have it too.”

“How is that cool?!”

“Well at least you apparently also have flare.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I dunno, ask Raven.”

“Raven!” Lexa ignores Clarke’s laughter as she yells across the pool. “What do you mean I have flare?”

“Your dumbassery is only known by a select few. They admire the chaos of it, while everyone else is oblivious to its existence,” Raven yells over her shoulder. Lexa’s pout deepens in thought, her body finally relaxing as she slouches slightly towards Clarke, whose nimble fingers were wrapping a clean bandage around her hand. 

“…I guess that’s still better than what you have.”

“I’m glad having it better than me brings you some solace, Lexa.”

“It does. I mean, it’s not exactly hard to exceed you in this area of… whatever it is.”

“Fun fact: I am also very good at removing stitches. I’ve found some pretty creative ways of doing it, too. One involves large, rusted scissors.”

“…I’m only exceeding you by a little bit though, so I guess it’s not that hard.”

“That’s better.”

\--------------------------

Clarke had told her to wait until Monday for another ‘check-up’. She had given her some cream and a bandage to change herself the next day and said to only come over if it showed signs of infection or if she had accidentally ripped her stitches. 

Since neither of those things had happened, Lexa made her way to homeroom on Monday morning with a hastily wrapped bandage that kept coming loose, carrying with her an outline and schedule for her and Clarke’s maths assignment. 

“Morning, princess.”

“Morning, dumbass.” Lexa raised an eyebrow at a smiling Clarke, shrugging as she slapped the papers in her hand down onto the desk before placing her bag on the floor and taking her seat to the left of Clarke.

“Did you bring the first aid kit?”

“How was the rest of your weekend, Clarke? Did you get up to anything interesting, Clarke? Did your boobs miss me awkwardly avoiding them, Clarke?” Clarke says as she pulls the first aid kit out of her backpack. “Of course I did, dumbass.”

“I wasn’t awkwardly avoiding your boobs.”

“That reoccurring blush says otherwise, Lexa.”

“Just because I’m gay, doesn’t mean I’m obsessed with your boobs, princess.”

“Even if I didn’t know you were gay, _Lexa_ , I’d still be giving you shit. I give Octavia the same kind of shit. You’re not special.”

“…Octavia stares at your boobs?”

“They’re good boobs.”

“Why are we talking about Clarke’s boobs?”

“Finn, you’ve seen enough of my boobs, this conversation isn’t for you.”

“Finn has seen your boobs?”

“Yes, Lexa, we’ve been friends for years and neither of us back down from a good game of truth or dare.” Lexa glares at Clarke for a moment before turning her gaze to Finn, who was casually leaning back on his chair and unceremoniously stuffing cereal into his mouth.

“They’re good boobs,” he shrugged.

“I know.” Lexa cringes and looks at a smirking Clarke.

“So you do know?”

“I mean—”

“See? No harm in admitting it Lexa.” Lexa drops her head down onto the table and sighs. She feels a tap on her shoulder and wordlessly crosses her left hand over to Clarke and moves to rest her head on her outstretched arm.

After a few minutes of silence, as Clarke works on her hand and scolds her quietly for being a ‘shitty bandage wrapper’ and ‘probably also a shitty present wrapper, too’, and as Ms. Vie goes about the morning announcements and Finn continues to eat his cereal, Lexa turns her head to rest her cheek on her arm and watch Clarke as she works. 

“You don’t seem fazed that I, a lesbian, was awkwardly avoiding your boobs.”

“I’ve told you, Lexa, I don’t care.”

“How can you go from caring to not caring so quickly.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s only been like two weeks.” Lexa frowns at Clarke’s scoff.

“No, you’ve just been _back_ for like two weeks. I never really cared, Lexa, I was just… copying what my grandparents did. I mean, I didn’t have much of an opinion on it two weeks ago, but I’ve worked on being more aware and asking the right questions and now, I am pleased to inform you, that I don’t care. You do you, and,” she frowns, pausing her movements on Lexa’s hand momentarily before continuing, looking as if she was trying to find the right words to say, “I dunno… I kinda, care less? That you’re avoiding them? I mean, most guys and that just stare when they think I’m not looking, then avoid them. At least you’re consistent in your awkward avoidance… you know?”

“So… you prefer girls staring at your boobs?”

“Well… what?”

“You prefer girls? Awkwardly staring at your boobs? Compared to guys?”

“Uhmm… yeah?” Lexa laughs softly.

“That sounds kinda gay, princess.”

“I’m not gay.”

“No need to get defensive.”

“I’m not, I’m just not gay.”

“Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Yes, fine.” Clarke finishes up in silence, Lexa watching intently so that, next time she has to do this herself, the bandage won’t keep coming loose. 

“I made an outline and a schedule for our assignment. We only have to do a few questions every day to get it done on time. Some are easier though, so I’m sure we can get it done sooner.”

“Sure. When do we start?”

“Today. We can either do it at lunch or in the library after school.”

“After school, please. I like to enjoy my designated eating time.”

“Sure. I’ll meet you there.” They sit in silence for the remainder of homeroom, Lexa scrolling through her phone and watching Clarke stare at the table from the corner of her eye. 

Once the bell rang, and everyone stood up, Clarke remained seated. 

“You good?”

“Hmm?”

“The bell’s gone.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” Lexa frowns.

_“What the fuck?”_

“What’s wrong.”

“What? Nothing.”

“You were fine before. You were even smiling.”

“Naww, you notice when I’m smiling?”

“Watch it, princess. What happened?” She watches as Clarke frowns and chews on her bottom lip. “Anytime, princess, I need to get to class.”

“Is it weird?” Lexa blinks. 

“Uhhh, what’s weird, exactly?”

“That I don’t mind girls staring and, like… I’m not completely against guys but, it feels… more… annoying? Like friends are fine because, you know, they’re friends and it’s not the same, but with strangers?” Lexa stares at Clarke, wondering if she was serious or not.

“What exactly do you mean by weird?”

“I dunno… just… what does that mean?”

“I… don’t think I can tell you that? I don’t know what’s going on inside of your head, Clarke.” Clarke nods, smiling weakly before throwing her backpack onto her left shoulder. 

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll, uhh… see you later.” And then she was gone, her head down, leaving Lexa to wonder what the fuck she had just been asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My OTP: Finn and his cereal.
> 
> Look at that small amount of plot actually being important, how wild.
> 
> Come chat on insta, I actually reply there and I will eventually post some soft gay shit: @the.unprofessional.writer


	16. Cramps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: my short-term memory ain't what it used to be, so, since I'm lucky to write a chapter a week and also since I deviated from my outline after the second chapter, everything takes longer because I have to keep going back to make sure what I'm writing follows what has already been written. 
> 
> Anywho, as always, I read all your comments and I adore them endlessly. I hope you all are safe and looking after yourselves during this weird time of existence, and I hope me occasionally updating brings you a little bit of joy. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this kinda weirdly explained plot development and also forgive me for any mistakes: I am tired as all hell and try to edit asap so I can post. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, cheers!

“Am I gay?”

“Well, good morning to you, too, Clarkey. How was homeroom?”

“Is it weird that I don’t mind girls staring, and I don’t really mind guys staring either but it’s, like, more annoying? Some of the time?” Raven, a bite of her breakfast burrito hanging from her mouth, squints at her before turning and speaking to Octavia through her mouthful of food.

“I think Clarke is having a problem.” Octavia hums in agreement, her upper lip resting on the straw from her milkshake, resulting in her looking like a baby wolf failing horribly at baring it’s teeth. 

“I think this may be your area of expertise, too.”

“I don’t think anything that includes giving advice is my area of expertise, O.”

“Well, I can’t really help, because honestly I have similar questions.”

“…Is there something you wanna tell me, O?”

“Who even knows, really.” Clarke stands and watches, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion as Octavia starts nonchalantly flipping through the worksheets their English teacher had left on each of their tables and as Raven just takes another bite of her burrito.

“Okay, firstly, where did you guys get the food?”

“Bellamy lost a bet.”

“Ah. Okay, and secondly, am I gay?”

“That’s not something I can answer for you Clarke.”

“But what does the stuff I’m describing sound like?” Raven sighs, longingly staring at her burrito before turning her full attention to Clarke. 

“I dunno, Clarke. It could just be that society has done you dirty and you’re used to being told that girls can stare since they have the same ‘stuff’. Or you’re kinda gay. Or, the most common solution: guys are just kinda perverts and it makes you uncomfortable.” Clarke stares, wide eyed, shaking her head gently.

“That… doesn’t really help.”

“I know, but at least now you have options. Now you just gotta pick one.”

“Miss. Griffin! Care to take a seat, or are you just planning on standing there and disrupting my class?” Clarke rolls her eyes as her friends stifle their laughter with their respective foods and liquids.

“Sorry, sir.” She makes her way to the back of the classroom where Niylah sits, taking the seat next to her and only realising as Niylah tenses beside her that they hadn’t spoken since the cafeteria last week. 

Or since Raven and Octavia had told her about Niylah’s feelings. 

“Hey.” Clarke frowns when she only receives a quick glance and a short nod before Niylah went back to scribbling notes on the worksheets on her desk. She slowly grabs her things from her bag and places them on her desk, awkward and stiff and desperate to find something to say that doesn’t reveal what she now knows, but also to not convey complete ignorance and come off as insensitive. 

“…Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Clarke nods, smiling weakly at Niylah as she still refuses to look at her for longer than half a second. 

“…How was your weekend?”

“Fine.” Clarke, sighing in defeat and bringing her elbow to the desk to rest her cheek on her fist, grabs her own set of worksheets and doodles on each page in silence as her teacher rambles on about the required reading, and as Niylah broods beside her. 

\---------------------------

“I heard you lost a bet.” Clarke grins as Bellamy rolls his eyes, throwing her bag on the grass and sitting beside him. 

“That I did.”

“What was it this time?” Bellamy chuckles, taking a sip of water before turning towards her with a small grimace.

“That I could think about Echo without blushing.” Clarke lets out a loud laugh, throwing her head back and grabbing onto his arm for support. When she looks back at Bellamy, he’s staring at her with both fond amusement and betrayal.

“I’m sorry, Bell, but why would you even take that bet?”

“Because I’m over her?” Clarke tries to hide her giggle behind her palm, which only becomes more difficult as Bellamy develops a deep pout. 

“And how did that work out for you?” Clarke laughs harder as Bellamy shoves her shoulder, sending her toppling sideways on the grass. 

“And how’d that maths pairing work out for you?” It was Bellamy’s turn to laugh as Clarke releases a loud groan, letting herself fall onto the grass and stare up at the clouds. 

“Who even does group maths assignments?”

“Is Clarke still complaining about the maths assignment?” Clarke tilts her head slightly to her right to see Raven, Octavia, Jasper and Monty walking towards them, food in hand and mischievous smiles firmly in place. 

“Yes. Yes, I am,” she says, sprawled out on the grass and looking at Octavia with a challenge in her eyes.

“You’re always complaining, Clarkey.”

“And Finn is always eating cereal, yet no one seems to be concerned about him or his health.” Everyone turns to look at Finn, sitting on the opposite side of Bellamy, staring intently at the box of cereal in his lap as he munches happily on the handfuls he continually shovels into his mouth. Bellamy turns to his sister and shrugs.

“She’s got a point.” As a mumble of ‘yeah’s and ‘true’s are spoken from the group, everyone finds a place to sit and conversation flows as it usually does during lunch. 

That was, until Raven and Octavia, from their place on the other side of a still sprawled out Clarke, turn to Clarke and tap her roughly on the nose. 

“Yes?” Clarke asks, scrunching her nose and squinting up at her friends. 

“Did you maybe wanna ask the rest of the group what you asked us today in class?” Raven whispers, careful not to alert anyone else of the conversation until Clarke agrees.

“Would that… would that be helpful?” She turns completely towards her friends, who share an uneasy glance.

“I mean… maybe?”

“’Maybe’ isn’t exactly comforting, Raven.”

“Look,” Raven shuffles closer to Clarke, sitting cross-legged next to her head, and bends to whisper even quieter, “O and I talked about it in class, and this could go one of two ways, Clarke. They could either be helpful and ask the right questions—”

“Or,” Octavia interrupts, “they could be dickbags about it and think that you’re just taking the piss.”

“And… make fun of you for it.” Clarke sits up, frowning and bringing one hand up to run through her hair and then down to start picking at her lip. 

“Why would they make fun of me for it? They gave me shit for not knowing if I was homophobic or not just last week.” Her frown deepens when both Raven and Octavia cringe.

“That’s… kinda why they would, Clarke,” Octavia says.

“Yeah, they might give you shit for being a hypocrite or something and… I dunno, give you what they thought you were giving?”

“So… you think they would be homophobic?”

“Well—”

“We think,” Octavia interrupts again, bringing her hands up to make air quotes, “that they might try to ‘give you a taste of your own medicine.’” 

“But I didn’t even do anything…”

“We know, Clarke. But—”

“We don’t know for sure that they will, and they probably won’t because we know they’re not dickholes, but—”

“But you can never be too careful, Clarke,” Raven finishes, her eyes sad and heavy. Clarke looks around uneasily at her friends, and realises that, since last week, some had been avoiding her.

 _“Harper… hasn’t even said ‘hi’ to me since then, has she? Has she even looked in my direction? And Miller… he’s just been nodding and looking… sad.”_ Clarke frowns as she sorts her friends, separating them based on their recent interactions with her. 

_“Murphy… is just Murphy. Maybe slightly more cautious, though? And Emori always tries to protect him, so that explains the weaker smiles that almost seem apologetic… Jasper hasn’t changed. Finn is still obsessed with cereal…. and he’s like a puppy; he forgives people almost instantly. Monty… I think he’s okay since I apologised. I think he knows I’m working to be better.”_

“Clarke? Clarke, you okay?”

_“And Bellamy has always been forgiving.”_

“She’s good, Bell, just give her a sec.” Clarke blinks away tears as she returns her gaze back to Raven and Octavia, shaking her head slowly and appreciating their understanding nods. 

\-----------------------

The rest of the day had dragged on, Clarke’s head pounding as questions swam in and out of her mind for hours. 

_"Why did that shit Lexa said shake me up so much? It’s not like she was even being serious, she was just being a smartass.”_

She had managed to make it through her classes without any trouble. She had probably even surprised half of her teachers with how quiet she was and ‘focused’ she appeared on her work. 

_“And why the fuck would my friends be dicks about me maybe being gay just to… get back at me, I guess? It's not like I really did anything. I mean, I was just confused, I wasn’t hateful or anything… right?”_

“You okay, princess?” And, somehow, she had managed to make it to the library before Lexa, earning her an impressed raise of a sculpted eyebrow and a small nod of appreciation before Lexa proceeded to make her feel incredibly stupid by how easily she could understand the questions.

 _“Why is she constantly asking if I’m okay today? Since when does she care?”_ Clarke nods as she rubs at her burning eyes.

“How much longer do we have to do this for?”

“We’ve only been at this for twenty minutes, Clarke.” Clarke pouts at Lexa before resting her forehead on the table at the back of the empty library. She was surprised at how patient Lexa was being. She knew that, if Lexa chose to, she could have finished the days required number of questions in five minutes. But here they were, twenty minutes down and only just over halfway through the minimum twenty-three questions that they had agreed on doing every day. 

“It feels like forever,” she mumbles, shifting her forehead on the table to look at an unimpressed, yet gentle looking Lexa. 

“We have ten more questions to do today, it shouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes. That is, of course, if you focus and actually try.” Clarke lifts her head of the desk and frowns at Lexa, whose eyebrow was raised in challenge. 

“I am trying. I’m always trying, I just don’t understand graphs, Lexa.”

“I think you do.”

“I don’t.”

“Well, not with that attitude.” Clarke raises an eyebrow to mirror Lexa.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying something.”

“What are you trying?”

“To motivate you.”

“Why?” Clarke frowns once again when Lexa releases a huff of amusement.

“Because, princess, I have places to be and I really don’t think you’re as stupid as you make yourself out to be.” Clarke’s eyebrows shoot up at that.

“Was that… was that an almost compliment?” Clarke smiles as Lexa rolls her eyes and sighs deeply. 

“No, it was an almost insult. Just, focus, okay? This isn’t that hard; you just need to find how it makes sense to you.”

“You don’t think that’s what I’ve been trying to do?”

“Well, keep trying. It’ll happen eventually.”

“But it makes my head hurt even more,” she whines, planting her forehead back on the table. She hears Lexa throws her pencil softly onto the table and then the creak of the chair as she leans back to rub at her face.

_“Here we go.”_

“What’s wrong.”

 _“What?”_ Clarke stares at an expectant Lexa, wondering why the fuck she seems to be… _caring_ so much.

“Uhh, nothing. What’s wrong with you?”

“Currently? You and your inability to focus.”

“Hey...”

“Just,” Lexa sighs again, “what’s wrong? You’re even more confused than usual.” Clarke, head still firmly on the desk, desperately tries to think of something to say that will get them back to awkwardly doing maths together. 

“Clarke, c’mon, I really don’t want to sit in this library forever.”

Clarke didn’t want to tell Lexa that what she had said that morning had raised a number of questions. Less importantly the question of her sexuality, which she had convinced herself was just a result of the rapid onslaught of information she had received over the last week and also of the pressure to realise her stance on the LGBTQI+ community ( _“I’m an ally, goddamn it,”_ ) but more so the character of her friends. 

She knew she was changing, and had already made massive improvements, but, still, Harper, Miller, and potentially Murphy and Emori, weren’t seeing that change, and that conversation and those revelations she had had with Raven and Octavia at lunch earlier had left her drained and confused and hurting. 

So, shifting to give Lexa a weak smile and pained expression, Clarke just shrugs and uses her most common, and successful, excuse:

“Cramps.”

\----------------------

Lexa hadn’t believed her. She had let it go with an exasperated huff and shake of her head but had made it obvious in the way she kept eyeing Clarke for the next twenty or so minutes that she knew that she was lying. 

She had also made it obvious in the way she kept her voice tediously gentle as she tried to explain the graphs again and again to a suspicious Clarke. 

And by the way she had continuously told Clarke that she _will_ get it eventually. 

And by the way she had awkwardly asked about her hand, what she should do with it, and when Clarke will be changing it for her next: (“I’ll check it again in homeroom tomorrow, Lexa. Just make sure to clean it well tonight and wrap it as best you can before you go to bed.”)

And then by the way she had held the door of the library open for Clarke as they left, giving her an encouraging smile and a somewhat cheery ( _“cheery for Lexa, anyway,”_ ) goodbye before she had raced off to her bike, swung her leg over it, and shot out of the school carpark and in the direction of the town centre. 

And, for the rest of the week, Clarke knew that Lexa was aware of her lie by how nice she was being. 

_Constantly._

Every morning in homeroom, as Clarke changed the bandage around her palm, Lexa just calmly sat and watched, lacking the usual commentary and obnoxious questioning. 

Every afternoon in the library, as Clarke struggled to understand graphs and to focus on anything outside of her own head, Lexa patiently waited for Clarke to confirm she had a basic grasp on how they got to the right answer for each question before moving on to the next, reminding her promptly after each of how many they had left before they could go home. 

Every day, when Lexa saw Clarke and needed to speak to her, usually only about her hand or maths, she referred to her only as ‘Clarke’, and avoided saying anything more than what was needed.

And, as Clarke sat outside her house in Raven’s ute with her and Octavia on Friday afternoon, eating burgers from the only sub-par takeaway food joint in the whole town, she couldn’t figure out why all that bothered her so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come chat on insta, I'm getting so close to almost writing some cute gay shit and actually being active over there (I do answer all messages though, unlike on here): @the.unprofessional.writer


	17. Bets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is... is this... another update? Just two days since the last? How... how can this be?
> 
> Ya boi turned down a whole bunch of public holiday shifts to finally get some time off work, and writing also makes me pretty darn happy, so here ya go.
> 
> Also a very Happy Easter to those who celebrate, and also to those like me who are just in it for the chocolate and family time. 
> 
> Excuse any mistakes, I finished this chapter then immediately edited which basically means I read it with a blindfold on. 
> 
> As always, I read all your comments and I appreciate you all immensely!!

“So, how are you going working with Clarke on that assignment,” Bellamy asks, wiping sweat from his forehead as he helps Lexa put together the equipment in her gym, “and when are you going to get some goddamn air-conditioning in this place?” Lexa huffs out a small chuckle, getting up from her position on the floor to grab towels for herself and Bellamy.

“Okay, I guess. And don’t worry, I have someone coming out on Monday afternoon.” She throws a towel at his head, shaking her head as he dramatically falls and sprawls out onto his bare back. 

“I’ve heard it’s been going better than just ‘okay’,” he says, his words slightly muffled by the towel still covering his face.

“What do you mean?” Lexa frowns, confused, as Bellamy takes the towel and places it under his head to use as a pillow. 

“Clarke’s been saying that you’ve been… unusually _nice_.”

“‘Unusually’?”

“Yes,” Bellamy chuckles, “apparently you’ve been very patient and gentle and considerate and everything that Clarke deems unusual for you.”

“Well… I’m not a complete ass.”

“And,” Bellamy winces as the skin on his back sticks to the floor as he goes to sit upright, “ _I_ know that. However, Clarke doesn’t, and now she is suspicious.” Lexa mindlessly rubs the towel in her hands across her torso, staring off at the wall as she realises that she had, in fact, been unusually nice to Clarke for the last few days. 

“Is… is she okay?” She frowns as Bellamy shrugs in defeat.

“I dunno. Octavia and Raven keep telling me to leave it alone and that she just needs a bit of time… I don’t even have a vague idea as to what’s happening though, you know? And she’s always been like my little sister, so it’s just… frustrating, that I don’t know what to do to help her.”

“I always forget you’re supposed to be the eldest here,” Lexa laughs as Bellamy launches his towel at Lexa’s face, pouting as she catches it and throws it back to him gently, “I mean, who even repeats kindergarten?”

“Someone with no shame, and nothing to prove to you, Woods,” he grins, finally using the towel to wipe at his chest and arms. They sit in silence for a while, each stuck in their own thoughts, both of which are centred around Clarke. 

“But… Clarke _has_ been acting weird, right? Like, she isn’t usually _this_ unfocused?”

“Yeah… but I can’t figure out what happened. She was fine at lunch on Monday and then Octavia and Raven asked her something and she just… what?” Bellamy frowns at her as Lexa chews on her bottom lip, eyes wide and uncertain.”

“Has she, uhh… has she ever done anything that made you think… that made you think she might be a bit… gay?” She smiles awkwardly as Bellamy’s eyebrows shoot up, his eyes widening before a deep frown settles on his features. 

“Uhmm… actually? Yeah.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, she just… she stares at girls a lot. I don’t think she notices that she does it half the time, but that definitely does happen. And, like… she may have not been sure whether she was homophobic or not, but we would always ask hypothetical questions, right? And we’d always ask whether any of us would kiss someone of the same sex, and she would… she would say that she would, without any real hesitation… why?” Bellamy’s frown becomes stern as Lexa feels her face contort into a look of vague guilt.

“Did you, uhhh… did you hear about what happened at her place last Saturday? Near her pool?” She blushes as Bellamy grins and tries to supress his laughter.

“Yes. Octavia found it very amusing.”

“Yeah, well… on Monday she was saying how she didn’t mind, because she just doesn’t really care when girls look at her… and I may have said that that sounds kinda gay,” Lexa cringes as the frown returns to Bellamy’s features. 

“And?”

“And… after that she asked me if it was weird… and then the next time I saw her she was… like she is now.”

“So… you think she might be… questioning her sexuality?”

“Maybe? I mean, it could be something else entirely… like you said she was fine at the start of lunch?”

“Uh, yeah. I heard Raven ask her something about… asking the rest of the group something? _Then_ she just kinda… shut off.”

“So, it might just be something else then? Something to do with her friends?”

“I mean… probably, actually. Some of them have been giving her a bit of a hard time, so she might just feel a bit… targeted? Or be a bit upset that not everyone is giving her the recognition for trying to be better.” Lexa hums as she thinks. She hadn’t intended to be ‘unusually’ nice, she just wanted to give Clarke a small break from their usual… _banter_.

“Hey,” Bellamy interrupts her thoughts, “I appreciate that you’re being a bit easier on her though. Even if it’s just until whatever this is blows over.” Lexa smiles weakly before grabbing a knife and making her way over to the next machine still sitting in its box. 

“C’mon, we’ve been at this for almost three hours and only have two machines done. At this rate it’ll take another week to finish this.”

“Well, you did get an impressive number of machines.”

“Best boxing gym in Arkadia, remember?”

“Also the only.”

“Shut up, it can still be amazing. Now, get off your ass and give me a hand, I’m not getting you that pizza if you start slacking.”

“You know,” she hears Bellamy laugh, “I can ask some friends to come help out.”

“What, those delinquents of yours?” Lexa smirks as Bellamy releases a loud laugh, nodding in agreement before standing to grab some water from the backpack he had bought with him.

“Yes, those are the ones.”

“Would they actually be helpful?” Lexa raises an eyebrow as Bellamy pouts in thought.

“Yes, actually. I mean, apart from Jasper and Finn. They tend to be pretty useless when it comes to teamwork. When it actually matters, that is.”

“When it actually matters?”

“Yeah,” Bellamy laughs, “they’re great at drinking games, but actual work, they find more joy in causing havoc. Oh, and Harper and Miller would be useful, but both are out of town visiting their boyfriends, and Emori has work.”

“So… that would leave?”

“It would be Murphy, who’d definitely need pizza to be convinced to work, Monty, Raven, Octavia, and Clarke.” Lexa releases a small scoff, followed by a low chuckle.

“You think Clarke would actually be good at this kind of heavy lifting?” 

“She would, actually,” Bellamy defends, taking another sip of water before making his way over to Lexa, helping her empty the box before throwing the carboard in the designated pile they have in the corner of the gym. “She’s really good at following instructions and working as a team. And,” he adds, wiggling his eyebrows, “she’s also deceptively strong.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.” Bellamy laughs softly then shrugs.

“Wanna make a bet?”

\--------------------------

“Bellamy, no offense, but this isn’t how I ever planned on spending my Saturday afternoon.”

“Shut up, O, we’re getting free pizza—woah, nice tatts, Lex.”

“And abs.”

“And scar! That is so badass, how’d you get it?” Lexa releases a small chuckle as Bellamy approaches Octavia and Raven to slap them both upside the head.

“We are respectful children, or we don’t get any pizza, understood?” Bellamy nods, pleased, when the two girls both mutter out annoyed agreements, making his way past them to greet Monty and Murphy.

“Hey, Woods.”

“Green,” Lexa smiles, approaching Monty and bringing him into a hug before turning towards Murphy, whom she had never met. 

“Lexa,” she says, extending her hand for a handshake.

“John Murphy, but call me Murphy,” he says, accepting the hand and returning the firm grip, “and I’ll have you know that I am only mildly intimidated by those shoulder muscles.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I am also completely in awe of the standard of ass handings you have given to our Clarkey in the past. Impressive stuff.”

“Thank you, I like to think I have it down to an art,” Lexa replies, a small smile gracing her lips as Murphy nods, ensures her that he is only there for the free pizza, and then makes his way over to Monty, Octavia and Raven who had already taken it upon themselves to finish the machine that Lexa and Bellamy had already started. 

She turns towards the front of the gym, expecting to see Bellamy, but is only met with an open door. She frowns, making her way outside and looking around, finding him leaning against his car and talking quietly with Clarke. 

Who appeared to be crying. 

_“Should I… do something?”_ Lexa watches from the entrance of the gym as Bellamy pulls Clarke into a tight hug, resting his chin on the top of her head and rubbing a hand up and down her back. She freezes when her eyes connect with Bellamy’s, worried that she had overstepped her boundaries, but relaxes when he give her a small smile and jerks his head slightly, signalling for her to go back inside and that he’ll talk to her later. 

So she does, turning around and back into her gym and shaking her head at Raven who was lifting herself out of the seat of the machine her and the others had just finished, trying to do a hundred pound lat pulldown. 

\------------------------

“I think it’s safe to say that you lost the bet, Woods,” Bellamy whispers with a grin as he and Lexa watch Clarke finish the machine that she had put together entirely by herself. 

“I will admit,” Lexa says, pulling out a slip of paper that guarantees Bellamy a free lifetime membership when the gym opens, “that I am wildly impressed.” Bellamy pockets the paper and chuckles, turning to see the other four argue over who will be the ‘head of construction’ of the next machine (Raven was on a winning streak).

“I thought you would’ve figured out how determined she is by now, but I guess you haven’t been watching her as much as I thought.” Lexa’s head snaps to her right, squinting at Bellamy as he tries to supress his laughter.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Lexa releases an exasperated sigh, deflating as Bellamy merely raises a single eyebrow. “That bikini was super revealing, okay? And she kept… moving.” 

“Yeah, humans tend to move a bit,” Bellamy says through fits of laughter, flinching slightly when Lexa lands a backhand slap to his stomach.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just,” she walks over to her bag, pulling out some water and then her wallet and hands her card to Bellamy, “go get the pizzas. We’ve been at this for hours and I feel like your delinquents are gonna turn on me soon if I don’t feed them.”

“They’re not animals, Lex,” Bellamy laughs, but pauses when Lexa flourishes a hand in the direction of a bra-clad Raven holding a shirtless Murphy’s face to the floor as she repeatedly tells him to ‘accept her superior construction skills’, and as Octavia and Monty cheer on whoever they placed their bets on.

“I’ll be back with the food for the animals,” he says sheepishly, quickly grabbing his bag and jogging out the door. 

“What now?”

“Jesus FUCK!” Lexa turns quickly to find a mildly amused Clarke behind her, sweat beading on the slope of her chest as she stands with her hands on her hips and an eyebrow raised.

“Hello.”

“Hi,” Lexa says, disoriented and once again blushing at her inability to ignore Clarke’s skin, “where’s your shirt?”

“I thought I’d join the club.”

“What… what club?”

“You and Bellamy started a trend and, you know, putting together one of these fuckers by yourself is pretty difficult.”

“Yeah, I, uhh… I saw that. How did you do that?”

“Well,” Clarke says, holding out her hand and grinning when Lexa mindlessly hands her her water bottle, “Bellamy said that you didn’t believe I could do it, and we all know how much I enjoy being your own personal burden.” Lexa blinks as Clarke steal sips of her water.

“Wait… he told you about the bet?”

“Bet? No, he just said you didn’t believe that I was capable of doing manual labour. What was the bet?”

“He got a free gym membership if you… if you did what you did, basically.”

“Uh huh. Do I get a free gym membership?”

“No. Why would you?”

“Because I’m so gosh darn helpful, of course,” Clarke laughs as Lexa raises an eyebrow.

“No.”

“Please?”

“No,” Lexa says as she turns and begins making her way over to the last two machines that needed putting together.

“What if we make our own bet?”

“And what would that be?” Lexa sighs, her back still to Clarke.

“If,” Clarke begins, bringing herself beside Lexa and nudging her so that they were standing face to face, “I put together a machine before you do, I get a free membership. And,” she continues, handing the almost empty water bottle back to Lexa, “if you finish before I do, then I will never set foot in this gym again.”

“Never?”

“Never. You have my word.”

“I dunno if that means all that much, princess,” she says, smirking when she receives a dull whack to the stomach.

“Then I swear on my boobs.”

“You… you what?” Lexa blinks dumbly. 

“I swear on my boobs, and all their glory, that I will never set foot in this gym again. Deal?” Lexa huffs out a quick laugh.

“…I see you’re back to your old, obnoxious self, huh?” Lexa frowns as she watches Clarke’s face fall slightly.

“Why are you…” she begins, sighing and dropping her chin to her chest before weakly smiling up at Lexa, forcing a challenge to dance in her eyes, “do we have a deal or not, Lexa?” Lexa eyes the hand extended to her and, after a brief moment of thought, she takes it.

“Deal.”

\------------------------------

“How.”

“Shut it, Raven.”

“But… _how?_ ”

“Shut it, Murphy.”

“But like—”

“Octavia, I swear if—”

“I didn’t pick you for being a sore loser, Lexa,” Clarke grins from the other side of the circle they had formed on the floor, everyone with a pizza in front of them, and everyone amazed at Clarke’s victory over Lexa.

“…How did you do it, princess?” 

“Skill.”

“And where did you even learn those skills?”

“You’ve met my dad, right?” Lexa hums, chewing on a bite of her pizza as she replays the cocky smirk and hip tilt of Clarke as she stood over her and asked if she needed help.

“I blame my hand.”

“Your hand is fine.”

“It’s not; it’s still damaged.”

“Lexa, I took the stitches out yesterday, it’s fine.”

“No, I don’t think it is.”

“Fine, I’ll go grab my first aid kit and stitch it back up.”

“I recommend yielding,” Monty says from Lexa’s left, “because she absolutely will.”

“It’s true, she did it when I was being a bitch about my foot,” Murphy added through a mouthful of pizza.

“What happened to your foot?”

“Nothing you can prove,” Raven says from next to Clarke. 

“What—”

“Don’t ask, Lex,” Bellamy chuckles, shaking his head as Octavia and Raven wear matching mischievous grins.

They all lapse into silence, happily eating their hard-earned pizzas, and then sprawling out on the rubber flooring once they were done. 

“Thank you, guys, for helping out, by the way. It got done a lot faster than I ever expected and I really appreciate it,” Lexa smiles softly as a chorus of ‘all good’s and ‘no worries’ erupt around her.

“While we’re here, do you want to make any more bets with any of us so that maybe we all can get free memberships?”

“Get out of my gym, Reyes.”

\----------------------------

Once they had helped Lexa tidy the inside of the gym, the proudly dubbed delinquents had left. Lexa had laughed as she hugged Monty and Murphy had told her that he would do any other work for free pizza, and then she had given Raven a confused fist-bump as she was dragged out of the gym by an exhausted Octavia and a distracted Clarke. 

Bellamy had offered to stay back and help Lexa wipe down the newly set up equipment, taking a seat next to Lexa on the floor once they were done. 

“So, I spoke to Clarke.”

“I saw,” Lexa says, confirming a contactor to come out to install a proper front desk, and then quickly scrolling through options for chairs for the front of the gym, “how’d it go?”

“It’s like we said, she’s feeling a bit attacked.”

“I think she’s feeling a lot attacked by how she was crying…” she says, glancing at a conflicted Bellamy, “…what’s wrong?”

“I just… I don’t know how I can help, you know? Like, it’s something she has to fix herself, otherwise it won’t look like she’s putting in the effort, but then… but then some people aren’t even giving her the chance.”

“Like who?”

“It’s mostly Harper, apparently, but also Miller. She said that she had fixed things with Murphy as soon as they got here this afternoon, and then Emori by extension, and she had also texted Monty sometime last week to confirm that they were cool, but Miller won’t reply to her texts and Harper basically told her to fuck off.”

“Is Harper even gay?”

“Not that I, or anyone else, is aware of. We don’t know what her problem is, but Octavia and Raven are with Clarke now trying to help her come up with a way to get her to listen.”

“Did you find out anything about the whole sexuality thing?”

“I didn’t ask,” Bellamy says, laying back onto the floor and rubbing at his face, “I don’t feel like it’s my place, and I know that I’d be one of the first people she would tell anything too, anyway. She didn’t say anything about it though, just that she realised how… _unfriendly_ some of her friends are being.”

“I can ask?”

“Don’t,” Bellamy says quickly, shooting upright and looking at Lexa with wide eyes.

“Why? I’m gay, I’m like the perfect person to talk to.”

“Yes, but you also aren’t really a fan of Clarke, are you?”

“Well, no, but—”

“And you still give her shit for how she was, yes?”

“Well—”

“And you’ve told me yourself how you struggled with accepting your sexuality after what happened back in first grade—”

“Well, yeah—”

“So, do you really think that either of you would be very mature in that hypothetical conversation?” Bellamy finishes, his eyebrows raised and eyes begging Lexa to just leave it be. 

“I mean… I guess,” Lexa sighs, Bellamy visibly relaxing at her understanding. 

“…Why do you want to help her out so much, anyway?”

“What?”

“Lex,” Bellamy says cautiously, “you do nothing but complain about her constantly and you tend to go out of your way to annoy her. You’re practically her bully. So… why are you so concerned about helping her now?”

“I’m…” Lexa pauses, deep frown firmly in place as she mulls over what Bellamy just said, and replays some of the more critical events that had transpired in the last few weeks, “I’m not… I’m not bullying her… right?” 

“You kinda are, Lex,” Bellamy grimaces, sitting patiently as Lexa’s frown turns into a pout and her eyes become weak and scared.

“But… I’m just—”

“It happened twelve years ago, Lexa. She was a kid and so were you. Has she done anything, _anything_ at all, in the last few weeks that even remotely implies that she is a bully?” 

“…No… but,” Lexa sighs, running her hands over her face, “it’s just so much easier to blame someone for everything. It’s just… it’s just better than accepting that the universe decided it just wanted to royally fuck me over,” she says, eyes defeated as she looks at Bellamy.

“I’m sure there’s way better people to blame than just Clarke, though. Right?”

“…Like Polis’ adoption laws?” Bellamy chuckles, nodding softly in agreement.

“Like Polis’ adoption laws.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at all this PLOT (kinda). We're getting to some good stuff my dudes.
> 
> Come chat on insta, I pinky swear I'll post some memes and write some short gay stuff eventually (I always respond to messages though): @the.unprofessional.writer


	18. The Errs of Eluding Passions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you all look at that, another bloody update. Let's see if I can keep this up when I go back to work in two days. 
> 
> This chapter really just sets things up for the next, where ALL the stuff starts happening. Like, the next few chapters are the ones. 
> 
> THE ones. 
> 
> As always, I read all your comments and I love them and you all dearly. 
> 
> Enjoy this random nonsense and tiny bit of plot.

“Clarke, you’re gonna have to actually look at the questions to be able to understand them.”

“No, I feel like I am equally as likely to understand them if I refuse to look at them.” 

“Clarke—”

“It’s fine, Lexa, go on without me…”

“Clarke, I swear to—”

“Save yourself, I’ll only weigh you down…”

“GODDAMN it, Clarke, I will—”

“Hey, guys… you okay?” Luna interrupts, appearing in front of a bemused Lexa to point cautiously at Clarke who, to Lexa’s disarray, has her face firmly planted in her arms resting atop the library desk. Clarke smiles into her arms as she hears Lexa release a long groan and then her pencil hit and bounce on the desk.

It was only Tuesday afternoon and already Clarke had had enough of Lexa being _unusually_ nice. Even after finally returning the favour of handing her her ass on Saturday at the gym, Lexa had been almost nothing but pleasant, with her usual quips being said in such a way that Clarke could only receive them as playful banter.

And it was _weird_.

So, Clarke had taken it upon herself to see how patient Lexa could be, holding nothing back and being as authentically her as possible, weird rambling and defiant pouting and all. 

“Luna, what the heck am I supposed to do with this thing—”

“I’m a person, thank you.”

“No, no,” Lexa tuts, Clarke tilting her head slightly to watch Lexa, her eyes wild as she shakes her head in Clarke’s direction, “you are a _thing_ until I figure out what to do with you and your defiant ass.”

“Do you think about my ass often, Lexa?”

“I swear to fucking GOD, princess—”

“Maybe I should come back later?” Luna says, trying to suppress her laughter as she watches the scene play out before her.

“No, it’s fine,” Lexa sighs, leaning back in her chair and running her hands through her hair, “what’s up?”

“I actually came over to invite Clarke to the party I told you about earlier,” Luna says, grinning as Lexa gives her a warm smile and nod to show she remembered, “which then of course extends to her delinquents,” Luna giggles as Clarke finally raises her head from her arms, giving her a dopey smile as she stretches her back in her chair. 

“I love how quickly the whole ‘delinquent’ thing caught on.”

“It’s amazing how fitting it is though, right?” Luna laughs.

“Absolutely, I love it. When’s the party?”

“It’s on Friday, my place at 7pm. My parents are out of town and, as every teen fiction piece goes, a party must be held in their absence.” Clarke hums, nodding in thought before bringing her focus back to Luna.

“Sounds good, I’ll pass it on to my fellow delinquents.”

“Brilliant, I look forward to the shenanigans that you all will bring,” Luna says, stepping around the desk and bending to whisper something in Lexa’s ear. Clarke watches, confused, as Lexa rolls her eyes and pushes at Luna’s shoulder, whispering something about ‘inviting them’ as Luna throws her head back in laughter and practically skips towards the exit of the library. 

“What was that?”

“Hmm?”

“What was that?”

“What was what?”

“You and Luna?”

“What?”

“Lexa.”

“Yes?”

“What’s going on with you and Luna?” Clarke finally asks, wiggling her eyebrows at a frowning Lexa.

“Uhhh, nothing? We’re good friends, what else?”

“I dunno, Lexa. I mean, I don’t go whispering in Raven or Octavia’s ear like that. Nor would they push me away so fondly.”

“Yeah, they both seem like they’d go for a knockout approach.”

“Lexa—”

“Not that it’s any of your business, princess, but there is nothing going on between me and Luna, okay? Can we get back to arguing about maths now, please?” 

“Sure, I guess. But, like, does _Luna_ know that there is nothing going on?” Clarke shrugs nonchalantly, looking over at Lexa from under her lashes with one eyebrow raised as she flips carelessly through her maths booklet.

“…What do you mean?” Clarke watches Lexa’s frown turn into a pout when she just shrugs again, sliding the booklet over to Lexa and asking innocently for help on the question that Lexa had been begging her to do for the last five minutes. 

\---------------------------

“Have you spoken to Harper or Miller yet?” Octavia asks from her place sprawled out on Clarke’s bedroom floor.

“I spoke to Miller today, but Harper still wants nothing to do with me,” Clarke replies, tub of ice cream in her lap as she watches Raven squint at all of the synopses for every movie she comes across on Netflix. 

“And how’d it go with him?”

“Good. I told him I just was never exposed to anything LGBT and, when I was, it was super negative. I explained what I have been doing to be more aware and how much I have apologised to Lexa for what I did, and then also told him that I don’t care what his sexuality is, I just want him to be happy because he deserves it.”

“Nawww, Clarkey! Look at you being all mature,” Raven says from her upside down position on Clarke’s bed, reaching over to pat her on the head but whacking her in the face a few times instead since she refused to remove her eyes from the screen. 

“So, he took it well, then?”

“Yeah, O. He said that he was just being cautious and wanted to make sure that I was actually making strides, not just saying shit to make people happy.”

“Yeah, that’s fair,” Raven mumbles, finally settling on watching ’50 First Dates’ for the hundredth time, “I probably would have done the same if I didn’t have to deal with your ass constantly.”

“Your words wound me, Reyes.”

“Yeah, yeah. So, now we just gotta figure out Harper, yeah?” Clarke hums out a confirmation, frowning as she takes another spoonful of ice cream. 

“I don’t get it though, wasn’t she one of the people who bullied Lexa, too?” Clarke’s frown deepens when Octavia nods.

“She was actually the worst of us, so I dunno what her problem is now… maybe we could try and talk to her for you?”

“Nah,” Clarke shakes her head firmly, “she’ll probably think that I’m pussying out or something. I just… I just have to think of a way to get her to listen, I guess.”

“Luna’s party might be your best bet, Clarkey,” Raven says as she attempts to steal a spoonful of Clarke’s ice cream, “after Harper has had a few drinks and such.”

“Raven, you can’t eat ice cream upside down, you’re gonna choke.”

“I’ll be fine, O, I’m a professiona—”

“See,” Octavia says, watching in amusement and mild concern as Raven begins spluttering and Clarke, covered in the ice cream that Raven had spat out, thumps her aggressively on the back, “you’re choking.”

“This is why we can’t have nice things, Raven.”

“Yeah, Raven.”

\---------------------------

“I can’t imagine you at a party.”

“Do you try to picture me in various scenarios often, princess?”

“I do, yes. It amuses me.”

“Do you have nothing better to do with your free time?”

“Eh. Passion eludes me at the moment, so everything I usually do is ungratifying.”

“Passion… passion eludes you?” Clarke giggles at Lexa’s confused grimace as she lays on the floor of the library with her maths booklet open and resting on her chest. 

“Yeah, you know. Art. And, uhhhh… art.”

“Did you just realise that you don’t have very many hobbies?” Lexa asks from her chair at the desk, one eyebrow raised, her legs propped up on Clarke’s vacated seat and the end of her pencil resting on her lower lip. 

“I did. Now passion eludes me even more.”

“I don’t think there is a scale of… eluding. It just eludes you or it doesn’t.”

“Well mine does, and it’s at a solid eleven right now. Maybe even a fourteen.”

“Uh huh,” Lexa says, leaning down and taking Clarke’s booklet off her chest. “Well, you seem to be enjoying drawing my jawline.”

“Well, anything to avoid math, right?” Clarke huffs out a breath when Lexa drops her booklet onto her stomach, rolling her eyes and turning back to her own booklet. 

“We’re almost done for today, okay? Just four more questions and you can wistfully ponder the errs of your eluding passions in the comfort of your own home.”

“Why don’t we ever just do this at one of our places?”

“Hmm?”

“Why do we always do this in the library, why not, like, sprawl out in a pillow fort on my bedroom floor.”

“…Did you just invite me into a pillow fort in your bedroom?”

“I did… and now I’m embarrassed because that sounds like way more than the proposition that I had intended.”

“You say a lot of gay things without realising it, you know that?” Clarke freezes, looking up at Lexa with wide eyes before softly shaking her head clear and putting on a proud smile.

“What can I say, I’ve really embraced this whole ally thing, you know?”

“Sure thing, princess, whatever you say. Now, get your ass back up here and do some math.”

“No,” Clarke grins as she watches Lexa throw down her pencil and turn her body completely towards Clarke, bending to look over her with pleading eyes.

“What will it take to get you to sit here for five more minutes so that we can finish these questions?”

“Describe for me what you’re like at a party. I need to prepare myself for tomorrow.”

“Clarke, I’ve been to many a party. Why is that so unbelievable?”

“I dunno. You’re just all… broody.”

“Broody?”

“Yes.”

“And… that means I don’t go to parties?”

“Not necessarily. It just means I picture you standing in a corner with, like, straight whiskey or something and glaring at everyone because they’re all dancing too close or not wearing enough clothing.”

“Uh huh,” Lexa says, resting her elbows on her knees and her chin on her fists, “well, on the occasions where you decided to wear less clothes than necessary, was I glaring?”

“Does staring count?”

“No.”

“Then no.”

“And do we have any data to prove that I would be mad about people dancing?”

“No, but we don’t have any that disproves it either,” Clarke smiles up at a sighing Lexa, finding too much enjoyment in the Lexa that entertains her procrastinating ramblings.

“But we have proof that I won’t be glaring for one of those things, so shouldn’t that be enough?”

“You know, just describing what you’re like at a party would have saved a lot of time here.”

“Just getting your ass up here for five more minutes would save the most amount of time, though.”

“Pfft, fine,” Clarke says, heaving herself off the floor and taking her seat next to Lexa, “I get it, you’re just scared.”

“What could I possibly be scared about?”

“I dunno. Uhmm… describing yourself? In… social situations?”

“You’ve seen me in social situations.”

“Yes, turns out you can be quite charming to people you don’t have a vendetta against.”

“Yeah, I’m actually not always an ass.”

“Hmmm. What could’ve been, hey?”

“Ponder the butterfly effect later, princess, I want to go home.”

“But we’re having so much fun.”

“I’m gonna pummel you if you don’t do these questions.”

“See? So much fun.”

\-----------------------------

“So, I’m assuming you _know_ why Lexa is being so weirdly nice and patient with me, right?” Clarke asks Bellamy as she and Raven climb into the back of his car.

“I do,” he replies, reversing out of Clarke’s driveway and driving in the direction of Luna’s.

“Are you going to tell me?”

“Nope.”

“Well, that’s rude.”

“Sorry, Clarkey, maybe you should just accept that Lexa isn’t actually an asshole,” he says, occasionally watching in the rear-view mirror as Clarke ponders this possibility, then laughs as she adamantly shakes her head ‘no’.

“No, I can still feel the hatred radiating off her, it’s just… tamed.”

“Then it looks like you’ve tamed the beast, Clarkey,” Raven says from beside her, grabbing the back of Bellamy’s seat and hoisting herself up to bring her face next to his, “and where’s Octavia?”

“Sit down, Reyes,” his hand comes to Raven’s face to push her back into her seat, “and she’ll be meeting us there. She was running late, and we only live like two minutes away, so she’s just walking.”

“And it’s cool with your—”

“Of course, Clarke. She’s working, so she said it wouldn’t bother her at all.”

“That woman is a legend,” Raven says as she pokes Bellamy in the face, “I wonder how she birthed a twat like you.”

“You know—”

“Hey, Clarkey,” Raven interrupts, turning so she can poke both Bellamy and Clarke in the face simultaneously, “your parents cool with the drinking?”

“Yes, Raven. They did say that if I was still sick or whatever by the time they pick me up tomorrow I’d then be in trouble, though.”

“I see they’re trying to be more aware of your shenanigans.”

“Yeah. Being held accountable and all that jazz.”

“Ahhh, I remember when my mother gave a damn,” Raven says, looking wistfully out the car window and sighing. “Just kidding, she’s never changed.”

“Well,” Bellamy says as he brings the car to a stop on the opposite side of the road in front of Luna’s house, “it’s a good thing you’ve got friends like us, hey?”

“Very true. Hey, who owns the Lexus?” Clarke and Bellamy turn to look further up the road, spotting the car in question and both releasing a low whistle as Raven simply stands and gapes.

“Yo, fuckos!” Clarke turns to see Octavia approaching from the house, her and Raven wearing almost identical high waisted shorts, tank tops and boots, “what took you guys so long?”

“Who owns the Lexus?” Raven asks, never removing her eyes from the car.

“It’s good to see you too, Raven! You look lovely too, Raven!”

“Octavia, this is not the time for jokes.” Octavia rolls her eyes, huffing out a breath before coming to stand next to them.

“I dunno but, apparently, Lexa invited some friends from Polis, so it might be one of theirs.”

“That’s a nice car.”

“It’s not gonna last in this town, though,” Bellamy tuts, turning to grab Octavia by the shoulders and turning her around. “C’mon, let’s go get drunk.” 

Clarke hears him and Octavia arguing over who can chug a beer faster as they head towards the house, leaving Raven and herself in the street, side by side, and staring at the car.

“Do you think…” Raven begins uneasily, Clarke immediately turning to look at her usually confident friend, “do you think we’re missing out? Growing up in a small town like this?” Clarke takes in the uncertainty in Raven’s posture and the desperation in her eyes.

“I think it’s good to start small. Then, when we graduate and go off to college, everything will seem a whole lot more fun… even with all the stress and shit that’ll come with college,” Clarke says cautiously, nodding to reassure a still doubtful looking Raven. 

“You reckon so?”

“Of course. This is just the start, after all. Who knows where we will be in a year, or what—”

“You two just gonna stand in the middle of the road and stare at my car all night, or do you guys wanna help me carry the alcohol in?” Startled, Clarke and Raven turn quickly behind them, taking in the tall blonde with the high cheekbones and intricate tattoos covering her exposed arms.

“Sorry, we just, uhh… we don’t really get to see those kinds of cars out here,” Clarke says, running a hand through her hair and settling her arms across her chest, raising an eyebrow when the girl releases a short laugh.

“Yeah, I figured. So, you guys wanna help? I’ll let you both have first pick of the stronger stuff.”

“Uhh, yeah sure,” Clarke says, looking quickly to her left to get confirmation from Raven who, if there was more light in the street, Clarke could have sworn was blushing a deep red, “lead the way.”

“You coming too, pint-sized?” After a sharp elbow to the ribs, Raven nods, following blindly behind Clarke and the smirking blonde. 

“We didn’t get your name,” Clarke says, taking the box of bottles handed to her and then handing it off to Raven.

“Anya, how about you two?”

“I’m Clarke, this is Raven.”

“H-hi,” Raven stutters out, almost forgetting about the box she was holding and going for a short wave that Anya ignored in favour of glaring at Clarke, halfway to handing her another box. 

“Clarke? As in Clarke Griffin?”

“Uhm, yes? How’d you—”

“Lexa invited us. We’ve heard all about you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's fucking get into this shit.
> 
> Come chat on insta, I yearn for the day that my motivation transfers to the effort I so wish I would put into that account: @the.unprofessional.writer
> 
> (I don't usually respond to comments on here but I do on insta, so if you wanna converse and such, that's the place to do it)


	19. The Party and the Bumbling Drama that it Brings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for 4.6k words of PLOT (jks at least 1.5k is weird ass banter and shit but still, PLOT)
> 
> As always, I read all your comments and I adore them endlessly. Thank you for all the continual support, it means a bunch. Please excuse any mistakes; I'm tired as balls. 
> 
> ALSO! Because I want to play things safe (and I hope I do this right):
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> \- Non-consensual elements (kiss - under the influence of alcohol)   
> \- Implied suicide (very brief, literally 4 short lines of dialogue alludes to it) --> I'll put a little *** before and after those 4 lines, though. Vague details below (but also mild spoilers):
> 
> Implying that homophobia resulted in a suicide.

“What took you so long?” Lexa asks, taking one of the boxes that Anya was carrying and following her into the expansive kitchen.

“I ran into your nemesis. You forgot to mention how cute she was. Or how rockin’ that body is.”

“Well, yeah, because it’s not important.”

“Well,” Anya says dramatically, grabbing a bottle of tequila and flicking off the lid, “I think it might be, considering her and I had a long chat that consisted mostly of her apologising for what she did and thanking me for looking out for you after all the shit you convinced her she caused,” she pauses, taking a long swig from the bottle before passing it to Lexa, “and she then proceeded to tell me how _‘unusually nice’_ you’ve been to her for the past week and a half, which leaves me to believe that you’ve held a vendetta against a girl who had no idea what she was saying as a _six year old_ and has since changed a fuckload, but you chose to ignore all that in favour of being a vengeful little shit.”

“You didn’t think that the last time we spoke,” Lexa pouted, taking a swig for herself, grimacing, and handing the bottle back, “you were completely on my side.”

“Yeah, because I thought you were just trying to prove that you turned out okay despite it all, not that you were planning a whole petty revenge against a girl who was never given any explanation about… well, it sounded like about _anything_ when she was young.”

“Just how long were you talking to her exactly?”

“Fucking long enough for me to be questioning your emotional stability.”

“Hey—”

“You should apologise.”

“Excuse me?” Lexa’s eyebrows shoot upwards, a look of pure confusion and betrayal colouring her features.

“You should apologise for being an ass.”

“I’m sorry, but—”

“Yes, like that, but to the cute blonde,” Anya chuckles as she takes another swig, her eyes lighting up as she looks over Lexa’s shoulder, “and here she comes.”

Lexa turns and, sure enough, Clarke and Raven were entering the kitchen, each carrying a box filled with alcohol that they place on the counter.

“Do we still get first pick?”

“But of course, blondie, a deal is a deal after all. What’s your poison?”

“Tequila, please. For both of us.” Anya hands her the bottle that she had been holding, letting them know they could keep it and turns back to Lexa.

“Didn’t you want to say something to the cute blonde, Lexi?”

“Lexi?”

“Shut it, Reyes.”

“But—”

“No.”

“What did you want to say to me?” Clarke asks, a faint blush painting her cheeks and a mischievous smirk settling on her lips. 

“Nothing. Thanks for brainwashing this one though,” she jerks a thumb towards Anya, “that’s what I really needed from you. Thank you _so, so_ much.”

“What? How did I—”

“Leave it, princess. Go hang with your delinquents and leave me alone,” Lexa spits, turning her back on Clarke and Raven and grabbing the only bottle of whiskey that Anya brought along. She hears Clarke mutter something about needing to meet Miller’s boyfriend anyway, and then their retreating footsteps, as she pours a generous amount into a cup before downing half of it in one go.

“I mean, she was right about the brooding whiskey thing though, aye?” Anya cackles as Lexa swings around to whack her firmly on the arm, moving a safe distance away before grabbing a beer. 

“How much did you guys fucking talk about?”

“Everything, _princess_.”

“Fuck you, Anya.”

“Hey, listen,” Anya’s voice takes on a serious tone as she steps forward, placing a hand on Lexa’s shoulder and shaking her until she looks her in the eyes, “I’m always gonna be on your side, kiddo. But I’m sure you’ve come to realise that Clarke _isn’t_ your _enemy_.” 

“You’re right, she’s my nothing.”

“That is definitely not what I was implying,” Anya says, hiding her smirk behind a swig of her beer.

“Then what were you implying,” Lexa retorts, crossing her arms over her chest after she pours another cup of whiskey. 

“That you like her.”

“I definitely do not like her; I can’t stand her.”

“No, no, I don’t think you understand,” Anya pauses, looking around dramatically before bending close Lexa, “I think you _vagina_ like her.”

“WHAT?!” Lexa splutters, choking on her drink while Anya laughs and pats her on the back, “what the fuck is _‘vagina like’_?”

“What the fuck do you think, kiddo?”

“I don’t have feelings for Clarke.”

“Sure, you do, you’re just blinded by artificial rage.”

“She killed my parents and—”

“How many times have we told you that that was never her fault?” Anya becomes serious again, eyes stern and jaw set, “that that was just some fucked up twist of fate?”

“Fate isn’t cruel, Anya.”

“Fate is entirely cruel, Lexa. What is more cruel than believing that nothing you do can change the course of the future?”

“…We wouldn’t have moved if it weren’t for her.”

“ _Yes_ , you _would’ve_. There isn’t a single lawyer in this town, let alone an entire law firm. You seriously think that your parents didn’t take that into account when you left?” Lexa stares at Anya for a while, taking in her words and deflating at the truth of them.

“…Her body is pretty great.” Anya laughs, wrapping an arm around Lexa’s shoulders and pulling her into a tight hug.

“Yeah it is, _and_ she is also an absolute sweetheart who seems to be dealing with enough already. I’m not saying you have to go confess your undying love for her—”

“I don’t love her—”

“ _BUT_ , you should just… cut her some slack. How would you feel if people still treated you a certain way because of something that you did when you were _six_?”

“Whatever…” Lexa scoffs, “so… you didn’t yell at her for me at all?”

“Oh, I started to, and holy fuck I was on a roll. But then she looked so fucking devasted and I realised that this girl was not some monster, but in fact a cinnamon roll who can’t deal with being yelled at.”

“So, you decided that the obvious course of action was to become best friends?”

“Well, yeah,” Anya grins, grabbing Lexa by the hand and dragging her from the kitchen, “how else was I supposed to find out how much you vagina like her?” 

Lexa groans as she is pulled through the party, protesting the entire way that she doesn’t have feelings for Clarke. She continues to protest when she spots the girl in question in the backyard standing near the designated beer pong table. 

And continues to protest even when she tugs at Anya’s arm to stop, pausing to watch and frown at the intensity of the scene before her.

\--------------------------

“Just leave me alone, Clarke.”

“Harper, please, just hear me out.”

“You made your stance pretty clear, princess.”

“Don’t call me princess,” Clarke spits, keeping her distance from an already very drunk Harper, “and I’m pretty sure the whole issue was that I _didn’t_ have a stance.”

“Whatever, just leave me alone.”

“Harper, I have apologised to Lexa, _profusely_ and _repeatedly_ , I have apologised to everyone in our group that was upset by it, I have been taught and learned so much to increase my awareness, and I have since made my stance as an _ally_ very clear. Why won’t you listen to any of that?”

“Because words mean shit, Clarke. A person’s past is never truly removed from them, no matter how much they try to convince you otherwise,” she slurs.

“I was _six_! I didn’t know what I was saying and, in case you forgot, you _went along with it_. You probably bullied Lexa more than—”

“SHUT UP!” Clarke freezes, taking in the wild eyes of her friend and the fear that they emit, “just… shut up, Clarke.”

“…Why are you so angry, Harper? I’m not asking you to forgive me but just… give me that, at least,” Clarke begs, flicking her eyes quickly to her left to see Octavia, Raven, and Bellamy all watching awkwardly close by, and then quickly over Harper’s shoulder to see that they also had the attention of Luna and her friends, “please.” 

Harper glares weakly at Clarke, wiping at her cheeks as tears begin to fall.

***

“My cousin,” she whispers, barely loud enough for Clarke to hear, “she was gay.”

“…Was?”

“Yeah. Was,” she says weakly, lips trembling as she wraps her arms around her stomach and holds herself. 

“Harper… I’m so sorry… I—”

***

“I know how much of a role I played twelve years ago, okay? I know what I did, and the person I was, and I just… everything that seems to be happening these days is focused on then and what you did and what happened, and I—” she takes in an unsteady breath, “I’m constantly reminded of who I was and I am _terrified_ of still being the same.”

“You’re not though,” Clarke says cautiously, slowly approaching Harper with her hands by her side, “you’ve changed, and that’s what matters, right?” She reaches Harper as she stumbles to her knees, bending down beside her and wrapping her arms around her shoulders, bearing her weight as she leans into her chest. Clarke feels her nod, unwrapping her arms from herself and slowly bringing them around Clarke. 

“I’m sorry. I know you’ve done a lot to be better and—"

“It’s fine,” Clarke breathes, holding Harper close and rocking her slightly as they kneel in the grass, “it’s fine.”

\----------------------------

“You keep staring.”

“I do not.”

“Yes, you do. You’re doing it right now.”

“Well, her form is terrible,” Lexa pouts into her drink, swaying slightly in the chair she is currently sharing with Luna, surrounded by her friends, old and new.

“And how is it terrible?”

“She sticks her butt out way too far, it’ll throw off her balance,” Lexa says thoughtfully, turning to frown at a laughing Lincoln.

“Oh, so her butt is the issue?”

“Yes. Yes, it is.”

“Whose butt are we talking about?” Luna asks from Lexa’s right as she tries to twist is the chair, throwing her legs over Lexa’s and letting them dangle above the grass.

“Clarke’s,” Lincoln says, leaning over from Lexa’s other side as she sighs and takes another sip of whiskey, “apparently her beer pong form is terrible.”

“It is,” Lexa whines, resting her head back in the chair and closing her eyes, “she’ll never win with that posture.”

“I thought you don’t care about Clarke?” Luna asks, swaying forward and resting her hand on Lexa’s collar bone to steady herself. 

“I don’t.”

“Then why care about her form?”

“Because I’m not an asshole,” Lexa mumbles staring up at the sky as the stars spin above her.

“I think that may be enough whiskey for you, kiddo,” Anya reaches over Lincoln to take the drink from Lexa’s hand, finishing off the small amount that was in it before standing up to grab some water from the esky sitting a few steps away. 

She hands the bottle to Luna and laughs when she proceeds to try and pour the water into Lexa’s closed mouth, resulting in Lexa bolting upright as the ice-cold water drenches her front. 

“…bruh, the fuck?” She playfully pushes a giggling Luna’s legs off her own, looking ahead of her when she hears Octavia and Raven cheering in victory. “See? I told you her form was terrible.”

“That form doesn’t look so terrible to me.” Lexa turns her head to look past Luna’s still laughing form to see Niylah lounging on the grass, supporting herself on one elbow while the other arm brings a beer to her lips. She frowns, turning back to look at Lincoln and Anya who, to Lexa’s annoyance, were wearing matching smirks and watching her carefully.

“Whatever…”

“Yo, people I probably shouldn’t be calling fuckos!” Lexa, pouting deeply, brings her attention to Octavia, walking over very steadily for someone who had been playing beer pong for the better part of an hour, “Anyone wanna challenge Reyes and me? Otherwise we’re calling ourselves the champs, and no one can refute it.”

“We’ll take you on,” Roan says, standing from his place on the grass and hauling Nyko up with him, “you’re looking at the _reigning_ champs, sweetheart. But don’t worry, we’ll go easy on you.”

“Bitch, I would love to see you do anything more than cradle your own dick in your hand as you cry in defeat,” she says, sauntering away and yelling out to Raven to ‘prepare for battle’.

“Ohh, c’mon, Lex,” Luna tugs at Lexa’s hand, “we have _got_ to watch this.”

\-------------------------

“I saw what happened with you and Harper,” Niylah says, sitting down next to Clarke on the grass as they watch the beer pong match, deemed by Octavia as ‘the greatest match in the history of matchery’, “everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Clarke hums, absentmindedly sipping on the beer that Bellamy had handed her before he went to sit next to Echo, “we’re cool. Just some, uhh… stuff, needed resolving.” Clarke looks over her right shoulder to where Bellamy appeared to be drunkenly flirting with Echo, wearing that dopey grin that Clarke knew he was famous for as she reaches to push his hair out of his eyes.

“How much are you willing to bet they’ll be sucking tongues within the next half hour?” Niylah nudges Clarke’s shoulder with her own, laughing at the look of disgust that Clarke wears when she turns back around.

“That is the grossest thi—who even says, ‘sucking tongues’?” She laughs, downing the rest of the beer before turning back to Niylah, eyes suddenly serious. “You haven’t been speaking to me.”

“I know.”

“Why?”

“I feel like you know why,” Niylah mutters, finishing her own beer and planting it upright in the grass, avoiding Clarke’s gaze. Clarke frowns, momentarily distracted by the aggressive cheers and ‘c’mon’s that Octavia and Raven yell at Roan who, Clarke notes, looks worse for wear with only one cup left in front of him, Nyko standing to his side looking entirely too out of it to still be playing. 

“I don’t actually. I mean, I know in the general sense, but I don’t know why you actually stopped talking to me.”

“You and Lexa.”

“What?”

“You and Lexa. That’s why,” Niylah says bitterly, her eyes becoming dark as they still refuse to meet Clarke’s curious gaze.

“What do you mean, ‘me and Lexa’? There is no me and Lexa.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’m aware of where Lexa and I stand with each other, thank you,” she says, her eyes narrowing as Niylah just scoffs. 

“Whatever, Clarke.”

Clarke watches a slow smirk appear on Niylah’s lips as she stares straight ahead of her. She watches as her eyes glint, a vengeful gaze settling on whatever she was staring at.

Before Clarke could think to turn and find what had captured her attention, Niylah was once again looking at her, bringing her hand up to her jaw, and bringing her mouth closer to her own. 

\---------------------------

Lexa watched it all play out. The anger in Niylah’s eyes, the hate, and the hurt. Then, as it was all replaced with a bitter smirk and a knowing glint in her eyes, she watched helplessly as Clarke was pulled into a firm kiss. 

She watches as Clarke remains tense, but otherwise motionless, not pulling away but definitely not encouraging it. 

She watches as Niylah finally pulls away, looking Clarke in the eyes and smiling smugly.

She watches as Clarke frowns in confusion as Niylah says something short, standing up and walking over to Echo to pull her from her make-out session with Bellamy, dragging her away from the group of shocked delinquents and gaping newcomers and around the side of the house. 

She watches as the last ball is sunk in the ‘greatest match in the history of matchery’ to muted cheers and dull congratulations, and as Octavia punches Roan in the arm and Raven kisses Nyko on the cheek on their way around the table and over to Clarke.

She watches as Miller and his boyfriend, Bryan, approach Clarke cautiously, and as Finn and Jasper watch from a few meters away, blunts in hand and looks of utter confusion weighing heavily on their frowns. 

“Why are they all being so careful? It was just a kiss,” Luna says from Lexa’s right, leaning heavily on her as they sit on the grass in front of the back porch. 

Lexa stands, barely hearing Lincoln say something about 'Octavia' and 'rambling' and 'questioning', and slowly makes her way towards the delinquents, using Bellamy’s shoulder for support as she bends next to him and in front of an unfocused Clarke, snapping her fingers near her face to receive an icy glare.

“You don’t need to snap in my face, Lexa, I can hear—”

“Was that consensual?”

“I—what?”

“That kiss, did she ask if she could kiss you?”

“Uhh… no?”

“Did you want her to kiss you?”

“Uhm, not… not really, no?”

“Cool.”

“Cool? Lexa, what the fuck?”

“Cool it, princess,” Lexa says, rising and turning away from Clarke as she begins stumbling in the direction that Niylah dragged Echo, “I’ll handle it.”

\--------------------------

“What does she mean, ‘she’ll handle it’? What is there to _handle_ , exactly?”

“I dunno, it was kinda hot though.”

“Octavia, focus please,” Raven scolds. Clarke sits between the now bickering pair, with Raven sitting behind her left shoulder, and Octavia behind her right. 

“guys, what the fuck just happened?”

“Well,” Raven begins.

“Niylah kissed you,” Octavia interrupts, “then said something that made you look pretty fucking mad and confused—”

“And then interrupted me making my move.”

“Eww, Bell, gross.”

“Yeah, O, like you don’t want Linc—”

“Hey, what did Lexa just say to you?” Anya says quickly as she appears before them all, squatting next to Clarke with Lincoln joining her shortly after.

“She said she’d ‘handle it’,” Clarke says, bringing her hands to form air quotes, “whatever the fuck that’s supposed to—where are you guys going?”

“To save a dumb bitch, we’ll be back,” Anya calls over her shoulder, running surprisingly well in the direction of Niylah, Echo, and Lexa, with Lincoln hot on her heels. 

“WHAT, the _FUCK_ , is happening?”

“Hey, so, what was _that_ all about?”

“Finn, it’s fine, go back over to—”

“Yo,” Murphy appears from the back porch, making his way past a defeated Roan and Nyko and a confused Luna, and towards his fellow delinquents, arm linked with Emori and with Harper and Monty following closely behind, “do you guys know why Lexa is beating the living _shit_ out of Niylah on the front lawn?”

\-------------------------

“LEXA! I swear to every fucking God that I will whoop your ass if you don’t stop moving.”

“It huuurts,” Lexa whines, trying to pull her right hand out of Anya’s grip, “you don’t have to do this, I’m fine.”

“You can’t just leave your knuckles split and bleeding everywhere, you dumbass. What were you thinking?”

“I dunno… punch?”

“’Punch’ isn’t a thought, Lexa, it’s an action that fucking dumbfucks do when they’re drunk and blind to their feelings for their ex-nemesis.”

“I don’t have feelings for Clarke.”

“Lex,” Lincoln says, putting his phone quickly into his pocket, “you beat up a girl for _kissing her_.”

“Yeah, but that’s because it wasn’t consensual,” Lexa slurs, groaning as Anya dabs at her knuckles with more alcohol, “if it was consensual, then whoopie-friggin-doo.”

“Well, Clarke didn’t look all that mad about it.”

“She looked mad about whatever Niylah said afterwards, though,” Anya mutters, rummaging through the cabinets in the upstairs bathroom for some type of bandage. 

“Seeeee? I was merely defending her honour.”

“And why do you care about the honour of someone you hate?”

“Well, I—” Lexa pauses, frowning in thought before her eyes widen comically and she whispers out an elongated ‘oh no’, “I think she might be my friend.”

“Uh huh, sure,” Anya says, tugging roughly on Lexa’s hand to keep it in place while she wraps it up, “friends.”

\------------------------

“So, wait... What did Niylah say to you?”

“She said: ‘maybe one day you’ll figure it out, princess’,” Clarke sighs from her place on the grass, flat on her back and hands covering her face.

“And… what does that mean?” Raven squints at the rest of the delinquents, trying, like everyone else, to piece together the events that had just transpired. However, due to the copious amount of alcohol suddenly hitting them apparently all at once, their attempts at basically anything were not very successful. 

“Was she talking about your sexuality?” Miller asks, Bryan nodding in support once Clarke removes her hands from her face and props herself up on her elbows.

“Wait, your questioning your sexuality?”

“Yes, Jasper, it’s… it’s been a long two weeks.”

“Shouldn’t it take longer than that?”

“Nah, man,” Finn says, swaying unsteadily next to Jasper as he flourishes his hands dramatically, “it just… happens.”

“How would you know, Finn?”

“Well, my good Murph, all it takes is a small seedling to birth a whole plethora of questions.”

“…Are we just… gonna not touch that, or?” Murphy asks, wearing the same disturbed look as Monty and Bellamy. 

“I don’t think we have enough time to unpack all of… that,” Harper says, drunkenly braiding Clarke’s hair from behind her as Clarke stares at each of her friends in turn.

“Wait, has anyone thought to go check on Niylah?”

“I thought that’s where Luna, Roan and Nyko went,” Bellamy mumbles with his head resting in Clarke’s lap.

“I should go check on her,” Clarke announces, going to stand up but forgetting about the head in her lap and the hands now undoing the braids.

“I thought we were trying to figure out what she meant first? Like, is it about your roaming sexuality,” Emori asks Clarke.

“Roaming? How is it roaming?”

“I dunno, it’s just a fun word. Roaming. Rooooaming. Roammmming. Roa—”

“I think you made your point, babe,” Murphy says, cradling Emori’s hand and patting it softly.”

“Okay,” Octavia yells, startling everyone, including herself, “what are we doing about your sexuality, Clarkey?”

“I dunno, what are my options?”

“Well,” Raven scoots closer to Clarke and places her chin on her shoulder, talking almost directly into her neck, “do you like guys?”

“Yes.”

“Uh huh. Do you like girls?”

“I dunno, that’s the main issue here.”

“Well, what’d you think of that kiss?” Clarke ponders the thought for a moment, tilting her head to rest her cheek on Raven’s forehead.

“It was pretty nice, I guess, but I dunno how much that means.”

“Do you like looking at girls?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think about how pretty girls are?”

“…Yes?”

“Do you think about how soft their lips are?”

“Uhhhh—” Clarke’s hum is cut off by Raven’s lips, a quick but firm kiss that ends before Clarke realises what’s happening.

“How about now?”

“…They really are soft, aren’t they?”

“ _Right?!_ Like pillows and—”

“Careful, pint-sized, we wouldn’t want Lexa beating you up, too,” Anya chuckles, walking down the few steps from the porch.

“Don’t worry, hot stuff,” Raven grins dumbly, “there’s plenty of this nuisance to go around.”

“Uh huh, sure. Have any of you seen Luna? I need to say goodnight… and also sorry.” 

“Where’s Lexa?” Clarke asks, lifting Bellamy’s head off her lap as she stands, letting it thunk back onto the grass. She stumbles over to Anya and accepts the hand she holds out to steady her, “I need to ask her what the _fuck_ she was doing.”

“She was apparently, ‘defending your honour’,” she replies, using her free hand to form air quotes, “and is currently passed out in the back seat of my car”. 

“Oh,” Clarke frowns, “you’re not driving, are you?”

“No, Lincoln hasn’t had a drink; he’ll be driving us back to her place.”

“Good, good. C’mon,” Clarke slurs, tugging at Anya’s hand as she begins to walk away from her friends who, to their drunken credit, all give a confused wave to their retreating figures, “let’s go find Luna. And Niylah. I need to ask her what the fuck she was doing, too.”

Anya relents, returning a quick goodbye to the delinquents and laughing at Raven’s ‘hate to see you go, but love to watch you leave’, following an unsteady Clarke as she wonders back to the house.

“Do you have any idea where you’re going?”

“Nope,” Clarke grins over her shoulder, “I literally only saw the kitchen and then the backyard.”

“Well then maybe I should lead, blondie.” Clarke nods, losing balance as she does, and allows her arm to be linked with Anya’s as she leads them through the house, peaking into rooms as goes.

“So, you’re gay?” Anya asks suddenly as she leads Clarke upstairs.

“I dunno… maybe.”

“What does that mean?”

“I dunno… that I’m figuring it out?”

“We’ve all been there, blondie,” Anya mutters, closing the door to an empty bedroom, “if it helps at all, you looked pretty chuffed about that kiss with the nuisance.”

“…Girl’s lips are soft.”

“That they are. Don’t feel like you have to rush it, by the way. You’ll figure it out in your own time.” Clarke hums, thankful, and then gasps as she is led into what she assumes is Luna’s bedroom to see her attending to a dazed Niylah.

“What the _fuck_ , Niylah?” She says, pulling away from Anya’s arm and dropping herself in front of the bleeding girl, taking her jaw in her hands to assess the damage.

“Heya, princess, glad you could—”

“Don’t call me princess.”

“You let Lexa call you princess.”

“I don’t, actually, she just does it to annoy me and I’ve given up, so.” She pokes softly at the developing black eye, and wipes at the small trickle of stained blood that had fallen from the small split in her lip. 

“Whatever.”

“Stop being an ass, Niylah,” Echo says from her place between Roan and Nyko on the floor across the room, “you should leave, Clarke, she’s just gonna be a dick about it.”

“About what?”

“About you and Lexa,” Niylah spits.

“There _is_ no me and Lexa, we’re not even friends, just… platonic enemies… right?”

“Sure, Clarke,” Luna says, “because my platonic enemy would beat up a girl that kissed me.”

“That was uncalled for, by the way,” Clarke says, unaware of the spiteful tone that Luna had adopted.

“So was her splitting my lip.”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Just… go look after your ‘platonic enemy’, princess.”

“Don’t call me—”

“Yeah, so,” Anya awkwardly interrupts from the doorway, “I was just looking for you guys to, uhh… make sure you’re okay. And to… thank you for letting Lincoln and I come to your party, Luna. And also… sorry for the drama,” she finishes with a tight smile, walking into the room to hoist Clarke off the floor and drag her frowning form out of the room.

“We’re platonic enemies…” Clarke asks as they descend the stairs, “right?”

“Hmm?”

“Me and Lexa?”

“Well, between you and me,” Anya whispers conspiratorially as they walk out onto the back porch, “she might think that you guys are sorta... _friends_.”

“Pfft, no she doesn’t. She hates me,” Clarke scoffs, letting herself fall onto the grass beside a lounging Murphy and begins poking his cheek as he just stares up at the sky.

She misses the deep frown that colours Anya’s face as she says her brief goodbyes.

She misses the way that frown lifts when Raven asks her if she had ‘come back for more’.

And she misses the worried glace Anya throws over her shoulder as she takes her leave, unaware of how dejected she had sounded when she had scoffed at the idea of Lexa not hating her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This be the start of something beautiful...
> 
> Also starting a petition for "my good Murph" to become a thing.
> 
> Come chat on insta, I thoroughly enjoy having actual convos with you guys instead of me just creeping to see your comments here and never replying (even though I LOVE you all): @the.unprofessional.writer


	20. The Beginning of the End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my friends! As predicted, I went back to work and then didn't write a thing for over a week, and then I wrote and wasn't happy with it so it had to be re-written. But you better believe we got there in the end. 
> 
> As always, I read all the comments (that controversy, though) and I adore each and every one of you. Thank you all for reading and for all the ongoing support. 
> 
> ***There are implications of homophobia in this chapter, nothing graphic is described, though.

Lexa is roused from her sleep the next morning by the persistent poking of the cheek she didn’t have squashed against the couch cushion.

“Wakey wakey, Lexi-loo, rise and shine.” Lexa, mind still cloudy and heavy with the effects of the whiskey, hears a deep chuckle coming from behind the couch.

“Lexiiiiiii,” she hears Anya coo again from the arm of the couch, “get your fucking ass up or I’ll throw you onto the floooooor,” she sings. 

“Leave me alone,” she mumbles into the pillow, not opening her eyes or moving in the slightest.

“Lexa, it’s 11am, Linc and I are hungry and even your princess and her friends are up and about.” Lexa quickly lifts her head, groaning as her head protests the movement, and then again as her eyes burn when she goes to squint at a smirking Anya. 

“What?”

“Octavia sent a text thirty minutes ago asking if we wanted to join the delinquents for brunch, and Linc and I—”

“No.”

“And _Linc and I_ ,” Anya emphasises, “are fucking starving. Also, Lincoln thinks Octavia is cute.”

“Oi,” Lincoln says, his arms crossed and leaning against the back of the couch, “you’re just using me as an excuse to watch ‘pint-sized’ blush and stutter.”

“Well, yeah, but you also think the other one is cute, so,” Anya shrugs, “win win.” 

“…yeah.”

“See,” Anya says dramatically, dropping her hand to rest on the back of Lexa’s head, “we need to go. For Lincoln. And, more importantly, for food.”

“No,” Lexa mumbles, squishing her face more firmly into the pillow, turning her face away from Anya as she does so, “we separate ourselves from the delinquents.”

“Pfft, since when? You beat up one of your supposed friends for one of those delinquents, how exactly is that sep—”

“I what?” Lexa props herself onto her elbows quickly, her hair messy and tussled and bouncing in all directions as she looks between Anya and Lincoln for answers.

“You don’t remember?” Lincoln says with a concerned smile. 

“You seriously don’t remember beating the shit out of Niylah for kissing Clarke?” Lexa stares at Anya for a few moments, tracing the arch of her raised eyebrow as she reaches into the depths of her foggy mind to find the memories of the previous night. 

“Huh,” she eventually mumbles, her face becoming passive, “that I did.” She looks back to a grinning Anya as she sits upright, running her hands through her hair and then rubbing at her face, “Why did I do that, again?”

“Because Niylah didn’t ask before she kissed Clarke,” Lincoln says, producing a bagel from somewhere on his person and taking a bite.

“Yeah,” Anya confirms, frowning at the mystery bagel as she spoke, “you marched up to Clarke and asked her if it was consensual. When she shrugged out a no, you were all like ‘I’ll handle it, my princess’.” 

“Okay, first,” Lexa says firmly, pointing her finger first at Lincoln, “go get a plate, I do not tolerate crumbs in my home. Secondly,” she turns her finger towards Anya, “it’s just ‘princess’, not ‘ _my_ princess’, dumbass.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s ‘ _my_ princess’, actually. You did go all knight in shining armour on her.”

“You also had the epiphany that you guys were maybe friends,” Lincoln mumbles through his bagel, a plate now also appearing in his hand, “so I think that means that brunch is a go.”

“We’re not getting brunch with the delinquents… how are they even functioning enough to get brunch, do they not experience hangovers?”

“It’s the small-town alcoholism, they’ve built up an immunity.”

“C’mon Lexi,” Anya whines, ignoring Lincoln’s thoughtful crunching and moving from the arm of the couch to sit beside Lexa, “we’re hungry and wanna meet your friends while sober.”

“And Anya wants the drama.”

“I doooooo.” Lexa sighs, ignoring Anya’s puppy dog eyes and stands from the couch, stretching her arms above her head as her sigh turns into a groan.

“Fine,” she relents, “just… wait, how did Octavia _text_ you?”

“We know how to makes friends, Lex.”

“Yeah, and Lincoln grew some balls and asked her for her number.”

“Hey! I did not… she just gave it to me.” Lexa glares weakly at her friends, shaking her head in defeat as she makes her way to the bathroom.

_“Jesus fucking Christ.”_

\-------------------------

“Yo, so how about Lexa beating the fuck outta Niylah last night, amiright?” Anya says loudly as she approaches the delinquents. Lexa, following behind Anya and Lincoln, rolls her eyes as a tame chorus of cheers rose from the long table at the back of the Skaikru Café, then sighs deeply as she assesses the seating arrangements. 

_“Of course. It’s always us.”_

“C’mon, Lexi,” Anya says, taking her seat next to a possibly sleeping Raven, her head planted to the table, and pointing to the available chair opposite her, “join your delinquents.” Lexa glares at Anya, weakening her gaze as her eyes find Lincoln’s empathetic smile as he takes the seat next to Anya at the head of the table.

Lexa huffs out a breath as she makes her way around the table and takes her seat, ignoring the conversation Clarke was having beside her with Octavia. 

“You guys are the fucking worst,” Lexa whispers through her teeth to Anya and Lincoln, clenching her jaw when Anya grins and Lincoln shrugs weakly.

“What are the odds, aye?” Anya says as she pours herself and the others some water, “It’s almost as if someone planned this.” Lexa’s eyes narrow.

“What do you mean—”

“Care to explain why your friends think this is wise?” Clarke says suddenly, speaking to Lexa but directing the question at Anya.

“Sorry, dude,” Octavia says to Anya from beside Clarke, “she knows my meddling face.”

“What kind of meddler has a meddling face?”

“A bad one,” Raven grumbles, startling Anya as she rolls from her forehead to her cheek to look at her, “you should’ve asked me, I’m much better at getting the desired results,” she grins.

“You’re too hungover to even move, Raven, how were you supposed to plan anything?” Octavia says through a pout.

“Well, actual intelligence, to begin with.”

Lexa gives Anya an unimpressed look as Octavia and Raven argue, Raven never lifting her head from the table, just tilting to find the best angle to be heard.

“Look at what you’ve done, you’ve riled up the delinquents.”

“I’m sorry,” Anya says, looking between Octavia and Raven with barely concealed amusement, “I didn’t plan for this.”

“Why are you planning anything at all?”

“I dunno,” Anya shrugs, jerking her head in the direction of Clarke, “I figured you guys should talk about last night.”

“No, _we_ ,” Lexa says, pointing between herself and Anya, “need to talk about last night.” She drops her hand onto the table and turns to look at Clarke, jumping slightly when she finds annoyed blue eyes already staring at her.

“I think Anya might be right, actually.”

“Of course, you do,” Lexa grumbles.

“Excuse me?”

“How did you manage to weasel your way into a friendship with _my_ friends, exactly?” She glares at a frowning Clarke, going to take a sip of her water as she waits for her response.

“Uhh, maybe by being honest? And actually pleasant?” Clarke begins to seethe.

“What do you know about being pleasant, princess?” Lexa says, trying to conceal a small smile behind her glass as fire alights in Clarke’s eyes.

“Well, since I’m not just some commanding robot bitch, I whole lot more than you,” she spits, ignoring the way Anya’s jaw drops and Lincoln starts gulping down all the water he can pour into his glass.

“Ayyee, Commander Lex—”

“Shut up, Raven,” Lexa and Clarke both say, not waiting to watch Raven’s eyes widen in unease before turning back to each other. 

“What is your problem, Lexa?”

“What the fuck do you think?”

“Well, I don’t fucking know, because you decided to beat the shit out of someone all because they _kissed me_ and—”

“Because it wasn’t consensual!” 

“It was _just_ a kiss, Lexa, it wasn’t the worst thing to happen.”

“Consent is still needed, regardless of how small the act, princess,” Lexa hisses, feeling her skin burn from all the eyes watching her. 

“That doesn’t mean you just drunkenly charge into a fucking battle with someone, Lexa, talking is also a thing, you know.”

“Well you never shut up so, yeah, I’m aware talking is a thing.”

“Fuck you, Lexa,” Clarke sighs, exhaustion filling her eyes. “Why are you—”

“Why are you so mad, exactly?” Lexa interrupts, “I think a small ‘thank you’ is a more justified reaction.”

“No, it isn’t,” Clarke says lowly through gritted teeth.

“Yes, it is.”

“Actually,” Anya interrupts, “no, it isn’t.” Lexa, never having seen Anya _cringe_ before, frowns in confusion.

“…It isn’t?”

“That’s kinda why you guys need to talk, Lexa,” Raven mumbles, her chin now resting on her forearms as she watches.

“Yeah,” Octavia says, wincing, “it’s kinda started a lot more than it really should’ve.” Lexa’s frown deepens, searching Octavia’s face before her attention was directed to the rest of the delinquents who, she realises, had been silently watching the scene unfold. 

“There’s a bit of a rumour,” Monty says weakly.

“A bit? It’s a _huge_ rumour. I’d be surprised if the whole town didn’t already know.”

“Nice contribution, Finn,” Murphy says sarcastically, “way to keep this discussion—”, he lets out a small ‘oof’ as Emori’s elbow jabs him in the ribs.

“What are you guys talking about?” Lexa asks, exasperated, anxiety rising as she looks around the group; as she looks at Miller and Bryan’s worried gaze, at Harper’s desperation to be anywhere else but there, at Bellamy’s tired eyes and bruising jaw, and at Clarke’s defeated posture and unfocused gaze.

“So, uhh,” Bellamy says, looking quickly past Octavia to Clarke before meeting Lexa’s eyes, “everyone thinks you and Clarke are dating.”

\---------------------------

“I’m sorry,” Lexa says angrily as she walks through the front door of her house and kicks off her shoes, Anya and Lincoln following nervously behind her, “but I’m still struggling to see how this is my fault, _or_ why this is such a big deal.”

“We honestly expected you to be freaking out about this a bit more than you are,” Lincoln says as he takes a seat on the couch next to Anya, watching as Lexa paces the lounge room.

“Why would I be freaking out? It’s not true, so why would it bother me?” She rants, “the only thing that bothers me is how much Clarke hates the idea of people thinking she’s gay. Ally my ass, she fucking—"

“You remember why you hate Clarke, right?” Anya interrupts, the same worried frown that hadn’t left her face since the café weighing heavily on her features.

“…Because she called me a lesbian when we were six?”

“Yes.”

“…How does that apply to now? I thought you’ve been telling me to forgive her, that nothing that happened after that was her fault and that you can’t blame something a six-year-old did when they were so heavily influenced by their severely homophobic grandparents?” Lexa stares at an awkward Lincoln and an unimpressed Anya.

“You realise what you just said, right? And that I had no idea about Clarke’s grandparents until last night and I haven’t spoken to you about it since?”

“…Whatever,” Lexa sighs. “How is that relevant now?”

“ _Why_ did your parents decide to leave Arkadia _then_? Why not a little later?”

“…Because that rumour got me beaten up—ohhhhh,” realisation dawns on Lexa’s face, her eyes becoming wide as she stares at Anya’s tight-lipped smile.

“There we go.”

“Wait, but,” Lexa says, running her fingers through her hair, “I haven’t come across a single person that’s a raging homophobe since I’ve been back, why is she so worried and—”

“You realise that you’ve only met a very small, select number of people, right? All of which are in the same kind of circle? Hell, all of them are friends with Raven who, while she doesn’t _flaunt_ her sexuality, she certainly doesn’t hide it, either.”

“…So,” Lexa groans as she buries her face in her hands while she thinks, “everyone is freaking out because they think Clarke will get bullied for being gay?”

“Yes.”

“And people only think she’s gay, not because Niylah _kissed_ her, but because I beat up Niylah _for_ kissing her?”

“Yes.”

“And that sequence of events could only possibly mean that her and I are dating?”

“Correct.” Lexa stares, lip curled and eyes squinting in confusion.

“What the actual fuck?”

“Basically,” Anya says, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees as she looks desperately at Lexa, “now do you understand why Clarke was particularly snippy this morning?”

“No, she just gets like that sometimes,” Lexa replies casually, picking at her lip and continuing to pace the length of the lounge room, “that being said, she usually only gets like that when I do something to piss her off.”

“Which you did,” Lincoln says, leaning back into the couch.

“No, I… well, yeah, but,” Lexa points at Lincoln, “I refuse to take the complete blame for this.”

“And you shouldn’t,” Anya says, “Niylah shouldn’t’ve been a dick to begin with but, like, you _were_ the one to cause a scene.”

“Well sorry I’m just so chivalrous.”

“Also, kinda stupid.”

“You already knew that, though,” Lexa says, waving her hand dismissively before becoming serious again. “I honestly haven’t seen anyone be a dick though, like, are we sure that being gay will get you bullied now?”

“Lexa,” Anya says firmly, “all the kids, and all the _parents_ ,” she accentuates, “that made your life hell, are still here. Just because a few of the kids that bullied you actually grew up into good people, doesn’t mean the people that raised them have changed.”

“…So, the parents are the main concern?”

“Well, yeah. Kids change pretty easily—” Lincoln begins.

“Parents are the real nightmares, though,” Anya says bitterly, “they’re stuck in their ways and make sure that their kids are just like them.” Lexa studies her friends, watching their timid movements and frowning at the concern swimming in their eyes.

“How… how are you guys so much more in tune with this place than I am? Why can’t I see all this?” Her frown deepens when she sees Anya and Lincoln share an uneasy look.

“We’re… not attached,” Lincoln says slowly.

“Yeah, we, uhh… we see this place from an outsider’s perspective. We—”

“You guys think I’m too obsessed with getting petty revenge on Clarke to notice anything else, don’t you?” Lexa says, arms folded and her eyes lacking the usual fire that ignites at the mention of Clarke.

“…Yes.”

“Look, Anya and I are here to support you—”

“But even you have to admit that almost _all_ of your energy goes into Clarke. And not even in a good way,” Anya winks, chuckling lightly at the eye roll she receives. 

“Okay, fine. What have I missed, exactly? That relates to how everyone is responding to this random-ass drama that makes literally _zero_ sense.”

“Well,” Lincoln begins, “Miller and Bryan have been together for years, but last night was the first time the delinquents had ever seen them together—”

“Raven wants nothing more than to leave this shithole because she is terrified of what it will do to her—"

“Octavia has been putting off figuring out her own sexuality for God knows how long—”

“And Clarke is struggling heaps with the idea of potentially liking girls because of all the internalised homophobia she has developed because of her grandparents.”

“…You guys sure do know a lot about these people and—wait,” Lexa says quickly, eyes wide, “Clarke’s questioning? As in, _actually_ questioning?”

“Yeah,” Anya says, running her hands through her hair and finally relaxing into the couch, “I thought you might’ve known?”

“I mean, Bell and I were considering it a little while ago, but we—I—never got an answer.”

“Well, yeah, she is. And I’m sure that’s gonna become even harder if shit does hit the fan and people react as badly as the delinquents think they will.” Lexa groans, throwing her head back and rubbing at her eyes until lights explode behind her eyelids.

“How did this even start? Like, who started the rumour and how are they so sure that _everyone_ already knows?”

“Apparently some kids crashed the party last night. I dunno who they were, but—”

“Bellamy got into a fight with one of them last night, though,” Lincoln interrupts, holding up his phone in response to the questioning gazes he receives, “hence the bruised jaw we saw earlier.”

“And, again, word travels fast in a small town. I wouldn’t be surprised if Clarke’s parents have already asked her about it.”

“Or if her grandparents already know,” Lincoln says nervously. 

“Her grandparents don’t live here anymore, and Jake wants nothing to do with them.”

“Small town, Lexi.” Lexa groans once again, walking over to the couch and dropping herself next to Anya. 

“Why is everything so much harder than it has to be?” She asks, placing her head on Anya’s shoulder, feeling her jerk her head and then hearing Lincoln stand and silently make his way into the kitchen. They sit in silence for a few moments, Lexa matching her breath to the rise and fall of Anya’s shoulder, before Anya breaks the silence.

“Do you want to talk about last night?”

“Hmm?”

“At the café, you said that we need to talk about last night.”

“Oh,” Lexa says timidly, lifting her head and pivoting to face Anya on the couch, “yeah… kinda.”

“Kinda? Lexi,” Anya says, smirking, “kinda is not a word for those of raging hearts.”

“Fuck off,” Lexa laughs, shoving at Anya’s shoulder and bringing her legs up and folding them underneath herself.

“You had the weirdest fucking teachers, Lex.”

“That’s what happens when you’re sent to an almost obnoxiously progressive, fancy-ass school,” she says, “but you’ve gotta admit, that’s a pretty good piece of advice.”

“Maybe,” Anya chuckles, shaking her head softly, “but seriously, what did you wanna say?” Lexa pauses, running her fingers over the slightly raised skin on her palm as she thinks.

“It’s just…,” she sighs, “you took Clarke’s side so quickly last night. Like, after one conversation you were all friendly and telling me that I was wrong.”

“To be fair, I’ve been telling you you were wrong for years.”

“Well, yeah, but only about the blame for my parents’ part. You always supported me with everything else, though.”

“And I still do, Lex, but,” Anya huffs, “you _have_ to see that she isn’t a bad person, right? Like, yeah, she fucked up when she was a kid, but after finding out everything about why she was the way she was, can you _really_ put _that_ much blame on her?”

“No, I know, but… you just seemed to change your mind very quickly, and I—”

“I was being a dick, Lex. When have I ever given you any _heartfelt_ advice?” She says with disgust, chuckling softly as Lexa rolls her eyes. 

“True, but… still?”

“Lexa,” Anya starts firmly, pivoting to mirror Lexa’s posture, “I will _always_ be on your side. If you still want to hate Clarke, fine, I’ll support you. _But_ that doesn’t mean I’m going to let that hatred become the only thing you have, okay? And,” she pauses, playing with her own fingers as she prepares herself to say what she has to, “from what I’ve heard… you’ve basically been bullying her, Lex.”

“Lexa sighs, rubbing at her face and willing the tears that suddenly sprang into her eyes to not fall, “I… I never wanted to become a bully.”

“Anger and hatred will do that to you,” Anya places her hand on Lexa’s knee, rubbing her thumb softly across her skin, “but… you can always stop. Maybe apologise, or at least just _try_ to move past it… okay? Maybe be _kinda_ friends?”

“…Yeah, sure,” Lexa says, wiping at her eyes quickly before pouting at Anya, “maybe. Only if you guys stop meddling, though.”

“No,” Anya cackles, “you guys are both dumbasses and I _live_ for the chaos.” Lexa drops her head, shaking it slowly in disproval as Anya continues to laugh and hides the small smile that pulls at her lips.

\------------------------

Lexa hadn’t seen or spoken to the delinquents for the rest of the weekend, only sometimes receiving updates from Octavia through Lincoln which, he said, were quickly becoming more frequent and carried with them more worries. 

She had noticed a few stares when she took Anya and Lincoln to her gym, showing them around and letting them test out the equipment, and had even noticed a general lack of… energy? Coming from Clarke’s house. 

Usually on weekends, Lexa could hear people coming and going, and occasionally even the shouts of Raven and Octavia whenever they were outside. This time, though, there was silence. No one came, and no one left. There was no excitement, and barely any movement to be seen from the house. 

She had taken Anya’s advice to not interfere and let things play out, having to be stopped a few times by her smirking friends from walking over to Clarke’s and making sure she was alright, and she had stopped herself from texting Bellamy to ask him for details, figuring that he would let her know if it were important. 

She had reluctantly agreed to keep Anya and Lincoln updated with the situation as they left on Sunday afternoon, making their way back to Polis and promising that they would drop by as soon as their schedules allowed. 

She had prepared herself all of Sunday night for the events that could potentially play out, keeping herself awake and filling her heart with regret, silently promising herself that she would apologise to Clarke for being so petty, and let her know that, while they still may not be great friends (or friends at all), she wouldn’t let her go through this alone. 

So, as Lexa made her way to homeroom on Monday morning, ignoring the whispers and eyes following her through the halls, she willed herself to remain calm and to not bombard Clarke with questions. Afterall, she wasn’t too sure if she should even know about half the things she now does. 

She felt prepared. She had thought of all the ways that today could go. However, as she stepped into her homeroom, she was caught completely by surprise at the scene she saw.

She pauses, feeling heat rush to her cheeks as all eyes turn to her.

“Miss Woods,” Principal Jaha says calmly from the back of the room, standing between Finn and some bleeding boy she had never noticed before. She looks to Clarke, seeing her standing on the other side of Jaha, arms crossed, and her eyes already fixed on Lexa. Swallowing thickly at the exhaustion and fear and _anger_ that Lexa sees within her eyes, she nods slowly, hoping that Clarke would understand that she was on her side, and that she would be _safe_.

“Principal Jaha, I can—”

“Wait there, please, Lexa. I need to talk to you and Miss Griffin privately.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's right, I used shouldn't've in the fic. Fight me on it. It's my greatest achievement. 
> 
> ALSO  
> I have randomly gotten the urge to do a hardcore Sims 4 rampage where I fill an entire neighbourhood with people and, because I got this idea while not writing this, I thought a whole drama with the delinquents would be fun (and time consuming) af.  
> SO  
> My question is: would any of you be keen to maybe jump on a discord server and assist with/witness the chaos that this would bring? Because it'd be hella more fun if it wasn't just me. If you're keen, send me a message on insta (@the.unprofessional.writer) and if anyone has any suggestions on how it could work better I'd also be down.
> 
> Thank you for reading my rant, stay safe out there people and look after yourselves


	21. Fan-fucking-tastic and Grandma Yolo Complex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I had a nickel for every time someone declared that this isn't a Clexa fic, I would probably have close to 20 nickels, and that is too many nickels for how small my wallet is.
> 
> Enjoy discovering the meaning behind the chapter title, and enjoy the lovely plot.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: Homophobic language (d*ke, lesbian used as an insult)

Clarke was fuming. 

She had passed beyond the point of being vaguely annoyed and skipped completely over just being angry.

She was fuming, and she wasn’t quite sure why.

She could understand why she would be annoyed, or angry, or, more realistically still, just upset and frustrated. 

But she was fuming and, while she wanted to blame Lexa, she knew that this was on Niylah and her ridiculous jealousy.

_“Fucking Lexa and her need to be all chivalrous and shit—"_

“What happened?” she heard Lexa whisper through the corner of her mouth as they walk quickly behind Principal Jaha, following him through the empty hallways towards his office.

“Some sophomore called me a dyke and Finn flipped his shit,” Clarke responded coldly, staring at the back of Jaha’s head and ignoring the impressed raise of Lexa’s eyebrows.

“Go, Finn.”

“Mhmm.” 

“…Are you blaming me for all of this?”

“Well, I’m not exactly _not_ blaming you for this, Lexa.”

“I honestly didn’t think this would happen, Clarke, I was just—”

“I know what you were doing, Lexa,” Clarke sighs, finally turning to briefly meet Lexa’s worried green eyes, “and… yeah. Thank you.”

“Wait… seriously?”

“Yes, Lexa. Seriously,” she says, her attention back on Jaha as he opens the door to his office and steps to the side, allowing her and Lexa to walk in, “my parents apparently owe you dinner.”

“For beating up Niylah?”

“For ‘defending my honour’, smartass,” she whispers, “but, yeah. Basically.” Clarke shakes her head softly at the proud little smile tugging at the corner of Lexa’s mouth, noticing how much more relaxed she now seems.

“Told you it was a more justified reaction.”

“Don’t push it, Lexa—"

“Ladies,” Jaha says, taking his seat behind his desk and motioning for the girls to sit in the two chairs opposite him, “please, take a seat.”

“Principal Jaha, I can explain—”

“There’s no need to explain, Lexa,” Jaha says softly, a reassuring smile gracing his features, “I’ve heard what happened.”

“Really? Does word seriously—”

“Travel that fast? Yes,” Jaha chuckles, “that’s a small, conservative town for you.” Clarke watches the exchange with confusion, wondering why Lexa was so quick to try and take control of the situation, and also why Jaha was _chuckling_.

“It’s not true, Sir, it’s just—”

“I don’t care even if it is, Clarke,” Jaha says, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands in his lap, “I’m just here to give you girls some information. And support.”

“Really?” Lexa asks, her eyebrows furrowed and her eyes watching Jaha closely, glancing at Clarke to see what she makes of this, “I mean… really?”

“Yes, Lexa. I’m not here to judge, or preach, or shame. You are both excellent students and wonderful people, and I don’t care about your sexuality… however,” he adds, his gentle smile being replaced with a worried grimace, “many other people do.”

“Yeah, I’ve figured.”

“Now, what happened at that party is none of my business, but,” he pauses, taking the time to search the defensive gazes of the girls, “it has started… a lot. And that has extended to the behaviour of some students on school grounds, and that therefore makes it somewhat my business, okay?”

“Principal Jaha,” Lexa says, quickly shooting Clarke a concerned look before returning her attention back to Jaha, “none of this is Clarke’s fault. Really. She just… got stuck in the middle of something.”

“Something between you and Niylah?”

“Well,” Clarke watches in shocked confusion as Lexa pauses and a perplexed frown brings her eyebrows together, “kinda. Yes.”

“I see. Are you willing to share what this issue is?” Clarke raises an eyebrow at the ‘deer in headlights’ look on Lexa’s face, tilting her head as Lexa meets her eyes. 

“Uhh… honestly, Sir, I don’t really know what the issue is. Maybe. I might, but—”

“You don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to Lexa,” Jaha says, raising a hand, “but do you think this issue will escalate further?”

“I don’t, Sir. I think I, uhhh… handled it.”

“So I heard,” Jaha says in a way that Clarke interprets as both reprimanding and impressed, “and I also saw. Be sure to not use those… _‘handling’_ techniques during school hours please, Miss Woods.”

“Of course, Sir.”

“Clarke,” Jaha says, making Clarke jump and quickly turn her gaze away from Lexa, “you’ve been very quiet.”

“I’m just… what did you want to say to us, Sir?” She frowns as Jaha sighs, taking a moment to gather his thoughts as he stares at a picture frame on his desk. 

“I’ve watched you grow up, Clarke, and I’ve watched and heard about all the changes you’ve worked so hard to achieve. I just… I want you to know that, regardless of how some students and, regrettably, some teachers, will react to this… , _‘rumour’_ , that you, and Lexa, and anyone else who may be fearful or feel threatened at the moment, will be safe under my care… okay?” Clarke stares, unfocused and scared at Jaha, and timidly nods her head. She looks at her hands, playing with her fingers as her face burns and her eyes sting.

“Thank you, Sir, I—” she stops suddenly when she feels something press against the side of her foot, looking quickly to see Lexa’s foot awkwardly splayed out to rest against her own, and Lexa watching her from her peripheries, “I, uhhh… I just need some time and… I need to think about how to deal with this.”

“Can I maybe give you girls some advice?”

“Sure,” Lexa says, her foot still resting next to Clarke’s, as Clarke just nods and wipes at her cheeks. 

“You both may have already figured out that the safest way to approach this is to not approach it at all. Try not to aggravate the situation and hope that it blows over,” he says empathetically. “I know that hiding who you are, or may be, isn’t something you should have to do, but it may be the only option to ensure your safety.”

“So, you’re just going to let it happen? You’re not going to address this or—”

“I’ll be holding an assembly sometime this week and the topic of bigotry will be the focus, Lexa. I’ll express my views and explain that there will be consequences if students decide to… act on their _beliefs._ ”

“Won’t that hurt your reputation though?” Clarke asks stiffly, finding a small amount of comfort in the pressure against her foot. 

“I don’t care, Clarke. Anger and hatred have done enough in this town,” he says, glancing at the frame on his desk, “and I won’t be someone who will just stand by and let it continue.” Clarke nods, adamantly avoiding the gazes of both Jaha and Lexa as she sniffles quietly. 

“Is… is Finn going to get in trouble? For beating up that boy?”

“Mr. Collins,” “Jaha sighs, amused, “will have to serve detention for violence, as per the school rules. However, the boy he beat will also be facing detention and,” he huffs out a quick chuckle, “Finn may or may not be given a bit of… freedom, during detention.” Clarke smiles at that, nodding her head in gratitude, thankful that Finn won’t suffer because of her. 

“Unless you girls have any questions or concerns, you are both free to go.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Lexa says, standing quickly and throwing her backpack onto her shoulders.

“Thanks,” Clarke says, smiling and accepting the formal handshake that Jaha extends. She makes her way out the door, jumping slightly when she sees Lexa waiting for her just outside.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“…You sure?”

“Not to sound rude, Lexa,” Clarke sighs deeply, “but why do you care so much all of a sudden?”

“Well… why wouldn’t I?”

“Really?” Clarke says, unimpressed, arching one eyebrow as Lexa turns her face timidly away from her as they both start walking towards their next classes. 

“It’s just… no one should have to go through this, Clarke. And… I’ve just been thinking. A lot.”

“What, so you’re not enjoying me getting a taste of my own medicine?”

“You were six, Clarke.”

“Since when have you taken that into account?”

“Since I’ve been repeatedly told that holding onto this anger isn’t going to make anything better. And, like… you’ve changed.”

“Yeah, no shit, Lexa. I’ve been trying to tell you that for weeks,” she says, clenching her jaw as she speaks. “So, you’re not enjoying this at all? Watching me go through the same thing you did?”

“I didn’t go through this Clarke.”

“What do you mean? You left Arkadia because of this kind of shit.”

“It was… different.”

“How? Were you not bullied for being gay at all since you’ve left?”

“No, I wasn’t.” Clarke stops in the middle of the hallway, grabbing Lexa by the forearm to pull her in front of her.

“Excuse me?”

“When I left, my parents put me into this… _super_ progressive school, okay? And Polis is just... different from here.”

“Uh huh,” Clarke says, folding her arms across her chest, “so… this is the first time you’ve dealt with homophobia since you were six?”

“…Yes.”

“You realise what this means, right?”

“…That I’ve basically been bullying you for no real reason other than out of pettiness, spite, and unresolved anger issues?”

“Yes, and?”

“And… that you’re gonna end me right where I stand?”

“No, I’m too exhausted to even be angry right now, actually.”

“Seriously?” Clarke tilts her head at the hopeful lilt in Lexa’s voice, chuckling softly as she turns away from Lexa and walks down the hall.

“Yup, I am, however, not so exhausted that I am not _incredibly_ disappointed,” she grins over her shoulder, laughing at the hurt and confusion on Lexa’s face.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Clarke?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” She replies, practically skipping in circles as she makes her way further down the hall, “It’s just that _all_ the shit has hit the fan, I can’t even come to terms with my sexuality at my own pace, the whole town is probably out to get us, and now you’re telling me the funniest fucking joke I’ve ever heard in my life,” she turns the corner at the end of the hallway, looking back at a conflicted Lexa, her head just barely poking out around the corner.

“I’m fan-fucking-tastic.”

\------------------------

Clarke had been standing at the precipice of her sanity for the whole day. She had survived her classes, finding solace in whichever friends she had in the class with her, and finding strength in the way the delinquents carried themselves around her. 

She had barely kept it together as she checked Bellamy’s jaw, remembering the beating he had gotten as he drunkenly tried to defend her at the party when some junior named Cage began mocking her and yelling all sorts of obscenities at her.

She had almost blown a fuse when Niylah approached her and tried to apologise, telling her she had never meant for this to happen when she had kissed her. Clarke had smiled tightly, accepted her apology, and then politely told her to “fuck off”.

She had laughed at the way Raven and Octavia had started their own rendition of Romeo and Juliet as Cage and two other juniors they didn’t know began shouting at her from across the field during their break, losing it as they dramatically stood and asked if they had ‘bitten their thumb at them’, holding their hands to their chests as they mocked offense. 

She had smiled as Finn replicated his fight from earlier with Jasper, exaggerating his whimsy and scolding Jasper when he fell the wrong way after he had been ‘hit’.

And then she had been both embarrassed and extremely grateful during English, when her teacher had passive aggressively made his stance on homosexuality clear, staring at her and Niylah in disgust as he did so, but then proceeded to choke on his water when Raven and Octavia began once again re-enacting Romeo and Juliet, but doing so in the _gayest_ way possible.

And now, as Clarke makes her way to the library, keeping her head down as she walks, she felt the rollercoaster of a day weigh down on her shoulders. She walks through the doors of the library, making her way to the usual table her and Lexa meet at to work on their assignment, and throws herself into the chair next to Lexa.

“I heard that Raven _bit_ Octavia’s thumb in class today?”

“She did.”

“Uh huh…well, okay then. You good?”

“Do I look good, Lexa?”

“I mean—”

“Can we maybe not do this, today,” Clarke says uneasily, looking around to see a number of people watching them, “I don’t really want to spend more time at this shithole than I have to.” She turns to look at Lexa who, like her, was looking around the room, albeit with a fiercer look than her own. 

“We can do it somewhere else?” Clarke hums in agreement, standing and leading the way out of the building.

“My place? My parents do actually want to make you dinner.”

“Don’t they need warning?”

“Well, considering I’ll be the one doing the ‘making’, no. They’ll be fine.”

“Sure. C’mon, I’ll drive.” They walk in silence to the carpark, Clarke stopping when they arrive.

“I’m not getting on the back of your bike.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s a bike, and I don’t trust you like that.”

“Hey, I’m a great driver. I’ll even give you the helmet.”

“You need a helmet too, dumbass.”

“Clarke, it’s literally two minutes. I’ll be fine. Now, get your ass on the bike, or I’ll meet you at your house in fifteen minutes,” Lexa says firmly, holding out the helmet to Clarke and nodding when she begrudgingly accepts it.

“If you die, I’ll kill you.”

“Since when do you care, princess?”

“Since I’m not a monster, you fucker,” she says, her eyes lacking the usual fire at being called ‘princess’ as she climbs onto the back of the bike and puts on the helmet, “now let’s go, people are staring.”

“You’re going to have to hold on to me, Clarke.”

“Not a chance.”

“I’m not moving until you hold on.”

“Lexa—”

“It’s not a question, princess, fucking hold on to me.” Clarke rolls her eyes, wrapping her arms around Lexa’s middle and tensing at how much of Lexa’s body she can feel in this position. 

“This is the worst.”

“Yeah, well, now neither of us are gonna die,” Lexa says over her shoulder, kicking away the stand and making her way out of the parking lot. 

“Or both of us will,” Clarke mumbles, leaning into Lexa’s back as she accelerates towards home.

\--------------------------

As Lexa had predicted, they had arrived in no more than two minutes, pulling into Lexa’s driveway before getting off and heading towards Clarke’s.

“You drive like a maniac.”

“I do not.”

“And then you drive like a grandma.”

“Hey, how—”

“It’s like you’re a grandma with a yolo complex.”

“Who even says ‘yolo’ anymore, Clarke?”

“People who hang around with people with a yolo compl—” Clarke stops abruptly at the end of Lexa’s driveway, not having noticed the silver Mercedes parked in front of her house.

“Clarke?”

“Oh no.”

“Clarke?”

“No no.”

“Clark—”

“Lexa, I swear to _god_ don’t say my name again.”

“…Princess?”

“LEX—”

“Would you just tell me why you look so pale? What’s wrong?” Clarke points at the car weakly, not looking at Lexa as she speaks.

“Wanna guess who that car belongs to?”

“I don’t do guessing games, Clarke.”

“I’ll give you a hint: they’re here because of the rumour.” Clarke turns to watch the gears turn in Lexa’s head, pulling her lips into a tight smile when Lexa’s mouth opens slightly and releases a small ‘ah’.

“…Do you wanna work on the assignment at mine?”

“Not particularly.”

“I’ll try not to take offense to that.”

“If the state of your garage is anything to go by, maybe you should.”

“Excuse you, my house is _pristine_ and—”

“Clarke!” Clarke watches as Lexa’s head snaps ahead of her.

“Is that your grandmother?”

“Yup.”

“What do we do—”

“Clarke!” After taking a few deep breaths, Clarke turns to face her grandmother, standing on the porch of her house with her arms crossed and her face twisted into a sneer, “why don’t you and your _friend_ come inside?”

_“Fuck everything.”_

\----------------------------

Clarke stares intently at the floor as she listens to her parents argue with her grandparents, and as she feels Lexa shift from foot to foot beside her. They had walked into the house expecting to be yelled at, however, as they now stand awkwardly in the hallway just outside the lounge room, they have been left to simply watch the scene before them.

“Clarke?”

“Yes, Lexa?”

“What’s happening?” Clarke raises her eyes from the floor and analyses the scene. She takes in the red faces of her grandparents, the fingers pointing between her parents and her and Lexa, and the spittle flying from their lips as they ask Jake where they went wrong in raising him and herself and why they weren’t taking action against ‘it’.

She admires the veins popping in her mother’s forehead, her jaw clenched so tightly that Clarke worried she may crack her teeth.

She watches as her father, as angry as she had ever seen him, towers over her grandparents and shouts his shame of being their son and yells at them to leave. 

“This is called homophobia, Lexa.” She sees Lexa glare at her from the corner of her eye, swallowing thickly as she sees her grandmother gesture to her.

“Clarke! Get over here.” She doesn’t move forward, just shuffles on the spot, feeling herself unintentionally move closer to Lexa. 

“CLARKE! NOW!”

“You do _not_ yell at my daughter!”

“ _We_ were the ones that raised her while you two were busy having premarital sex and leaning on us for support!”

“How _dare_ you,” Abby seethes, going to step in front of Jake when his arm reaches out to stop her.

“You’re my parents, I shouldn’t have needed to _beg_ you to help us out, and you certainly shouldn’t be taking _any_ credit for the woman she has become!”

“Well obviously _not_ , since we didn’t raise her to be some confused d—”

“Can I maybe butt in here?” Lexa says, overly polite and, as Clarke could feel from her side, very tense. 

“ _You_ will not say a word! How dare you think you can—”

“I’ll rephrase that then, shall I?” Lexa says more firmly, stepping forward into the lounge room and planting her feet into the carpet. “I’m _going_ to butt in here, so you should definitely stop talking because I’m just going to talk over you anyway.”

“Lexa,” Clarke says from behind her, grabbing her by the forearm to stop her from advancing further into the room, “what are you doing?”

“I have no idea,” she whispers, “but I got this.” Clarke’s eyebrows shoot up in worried confusion as Lexa shakes her hand off her and approaches her grandmother.

“What’s your name?”

“You have _no right_ to—”

“WHAT,” Lexa yells, “is your name?” Clearly startled, Clarke’s grandmother shares an annoyed glance with her husband before shooting daggers at Clarke and answering Lexa.

“Shirley.”

“Of course, it is,” Lexa smiles sarcastically before turning to Clarke’s grandfather, “and you, sir?”

“Donald.”

“Perfect, now,” Lexa turns towards Jake and Abby, both of which share the same dubious expression as Clarke, “Mr. and Mrs. Griffin, do you want Shirley and Donald in your home?”

“Uhhh,” Jake mumbles turning to his wife in confusion, “no?” Clarke watches as her mother shakes her head no, and then drops her mouth as Lexa nods surely and turns back to her grandparents.

“Now, I’m no lawyer, but I’m pretty sure that you need the express consent of the homeowner before being allowed in.” 

“Well, they let us in, and then—”

“No, no, I wasn’t finished,” Lexa says, smirking at the revulsion on Shirley’s face. “If the homeowner wishes you to leave after entering the home, that is their right, and it should be obeyed.”

“We are his _family!_ ”

“Not from what I’ve heard,” Lexa says through her teeth, bringing herself to her full height and approaching the seething grandparents, “I’ve heard you’re pretty _shitty_ people.”

“Excuse me!” Shirley gasps.

“I will not _tolerate_ being spoken to like this, _especially_ not by a some dirty—”

“Dirty what, _Donald_? Lesbian? Dyke? Does your vocabulary extend past those two ‘slurs’?”

“Well—”

“No no, you can both listen to me now, okay? Because you have lost your _right_ to speak about Clarke, and you sure as hell have lost your right to speak _to_ her, especially in the way you currently are. You are nothing here, now, okay? You do _not_ get to just _waltz_ in here after fucking up her childhood and demand that she be _fixed_. There is nothing, and I mean _nothing_ at _all_ that needs fixing about her, got it? She’s pretty damn perfect just the way she is and if you can’t see that, then you have no business demanding anything of her,” Lexa pauses to take in a breath and points to Jake and Abby, “and you should be fucking _proud_ of the man your son has become despite your vulgarities, _and_ for how he has raised Clarke, and you should fucking apologise for _ever_ making him and Abby suffer because of your own entitled idiocy, and,” Lexa points behind her to a very dazed Clarke, “you should be _so fucking proud_ of how Clarke has turned out, _especially_ considering how hard she had to work to fix the bullshit that you implanted in her mind and the hatred that you buried in her soul.”

“How dare—”

“I think you both should leave now,” Lexa says, breathless and shaking and red faced.

“You don’t get to make that decision, _girl_ —”

“She has more of a say in this house than you ever will,” Jake says, stepping out from his shock and approaching his parents, “you both need to leave. _Now_.” 

Clarke watches, numb, as her father escorts her appalled grandparents out of the house, slamming the door behind them, locking it, and leaning against it. 

She watches, numb, as her mother strides over to Lexa and envelops her in a hug, and as she feels the pressure of her father’s hand on her shoulder and inhales the smell of his shirt as he wraps her up into a hug, she watches as Abby says some tearful words into Lexa’s ear and as Lexa nods again and again. 

She watches, numb, as her father’s mouth moves and as Lexa breaks away from her mother awkwardly, turning around and approaching her. 

She follows, numb, as Lexa grabs her hand, and leads her up the stairs, stopping at the top to look around, and then making her way towards Clarke’s bedroom, leading her inside, and closing the door. 

\-----------------------

“Clarke? Clarke?!”

Clarke feels herself pacing the length of her bedroom, faintly hearing Lexa, but not moving to react in any way.

“Clarke!”

She picks at her lip furiously, muttering nonsense to herself as her pacing quickens.

“Princess?” Lexa says as she appears in front of her, placing her hands on her shoulders to stop her pacing.

“What the _fuck_ , Lexa?”

“What?”

“What the fuck was that?!”

“I think this is one of those moments where you should be _thanking_ me, princess.”

“Yeah, sure, thanks, but… what the _fuck_?” She stares at Lexa with wide eyes, her anger rising as Lexa just tilts her head like a confused puppy, and casually bounces her shoulders in a quick shrug.

“What’s wrong?”

“YOU! YOU’RE WHAT’S WRONG!” Clarke explodes, flailing her arms out as she yells and strides towards Lexa.

“What? I—”

“Do you wanna know what I was going to say that Friday before Raven and Octavia interrupted us?”

“…What do you mean?”

“That day, Lexa, when you cut your hand being a _dumbass_ and asked me what I was going to say?”

“Oh… what?”

“I was trying to ask—” Clarke takes in an unsteady breath, “why are you constantly trying to hurt me?” She struggles to breath as she watches Lexa’s face drop, and then scrunch in confusion.

“How was I hurting you just then? I was trying to—”

“I know what you were trying to do, Lexa! I fucking know! And it’s _confusing_ because one minute you’re calling me princess and telling me how ignorant and stupid I am—”

“I have never called you stupid—”

“You’ve thought it, though, and don’t lie.”

“I haven’t, actually. In fact, I’m pretty sure I said I _didn’t_ think you’re as stupid as you make yourself out to be… which I realise isn’t really better and—”

“LEXA! Fucking _focus_ please!”

“Sorry—”

“One minute I’m almost _begging_ you to tell me why you want to hurt me badly, and the next we’re bantering like best fucking friends! You’re so fucking hot and cold with me and I _never_ know how you’re going to react, and it _infuriates_ me, because you can’t even fucking give me the chance to figure out if I like you or if I hate you and—”

“Clarke?”

“—you were a total _ass_ to me even after I apologised _profusely_ for what I did when we were six and then you’re helping me with maths, and then you’re back to being a dick and calling me princess and telling me what a fuck up I am and how I ruined your entire life—”

“Clarke?”

“—and how you blame me for your parents and your brother, which I still don’t fully understand, by the way, and then you’re being all _gentle_ with me after I fix up your hand, and then you go out and tell me to leave you alone at that party, and then you’re beating the _shit_ out of Niylah for kissing me—”

“Because consent—”

“Yes, Lexa, I know, shut up. And _THEN_ you tell me how generally unpleasant I am and how I never shut up and then you’re ready to take the blame for the whole rumour and you’re sacrificing your sanity to yell at my grandparents for being pricks and yes, _thank you_ , you will be my father’s hero _forever_ , and—”

“Clarke?”

“WHAT?!” Clarke yells, breath erratic as she turns to Lexa. She finally stops pacing and flailing her arms as she stares at the dazed green eyes that are tracing her features rapidly and watches Lexa’s throat bobs as she swallows thickly. She stands, barely a metre away from Lexa, searching her eyes for a sign that she had been _listening_ and looking at the parted lips that always look so _soft_ and—"

“Can I kiss you?” Lexa breathes.

“…Excuse me?”

“Can I kiss you?” Clarke stares into the green eyes that she had never seen filled with so much confusion and fear. She wants to yell, and cry, and shout at her for being so _fucking_ confusing, but, instead she must have nodded, because she watches as those pillowy lips close and as that throat bobs once more, and she feels two hands come up to cup both her cheeks and pull her closer.

And then she relaxes, allowing herself to feel nothing but the relieved sigh that caresses her cheek and the softest lips pressing tenderly against her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you look at that... Clexa happened. Can't imagine why, with this not being a Clexa fic or anything. 
> 
> Explanations will be coming next chapter.
> 
> Come chat on insta, I've started posting memes again and I'm going to be taking prompts I find on the interwebs and make them super gay: @the.unprofessional.writer
> 
> ALSO if you're keen to join a discord server and help me create a dramatic ass delinquent love story on the Sims 4 let me know


	22. Establishing What Has Been Established

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo, it's been almost 2 weeks because writers block hit me like a huge bitch and now you have 3.5k words of dumbassery. You're welcome. 
> 
> As always, I read all your comments but suck at replying to them (chat on insta if you'd like: @the.unprofessional.writer) but I love every single one of you. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this... stuff. 
> 
> Also, details at the end for a DISCORD SERVER (heck yeah)

Lexa comes crashing back to reality by hands roughly gripping her t-shirt by her shoulders and pushing her back, holding her at arm’s length.

“What was that?”

“Hmm?”

“Lexa,” Clarke says, breathless, “what just happened?” Lexa, her mind fuzzy and her lips tingling, stares dumbly into Clarke’s conflicted blue eyes.

“I… don’t know.”

“You… you asked to kiss me.”

“…Yes.”

“…Why?”

“…I don’t know.”

“How do you not know?”

“I don’t know.”

“Lexa—”

“Your lips were just… there. And they looked soft and—”

“My lips have always _just been there_ Lexa.”

“Well… yeah. Shut up, god,” Lexa says, turning away from Clarke and running both hands through her hair.

“Why did you kiss me, Lexa?”

“Well… why did you say yes?”

“Because I… uhhh,” Lexa watches as Clarke pauses, her eyebrows drawing together and her lips forming a thoughtful pout, “I don’t know?”

“Brilliant,” Lexa says flippantly, throwing her arms in the air and letting them drop back down to her sides, “so neither of us know anything. Great—”

“You were the one that started all this, Lexa.”

_“How?”_

“By asking to _kiss me_ , dumbass.”

“Well… you were,” Lexa weakly flails her hands in Clarke’s direction, “making points and stuff.”

“ _How_ ,” Clarke asks incredulously, advancing on Lexa, “did me _yelling_ at you, turn into us _kissing_?”

“Well, I dunno, princess,” Lexa says, defensive, “maybe I just wanted you to stop talking.”

“I can think, at this very moment, of like _twelve_ other ways you could have gotten me to shut up, why was a kiss at the top of your list of options?”

“Well, obviously,” Lexa pauses, eyes tracing Clarke’s anxious features, “I wasn’t thinking of much else.”

“What do you mean you weren’t—”

“Can I kiss you again?”

“LEXA—”

“WHAT?” Lexa yells, watching the intensity of Clarke’s eyes and feeling them bore into her own. 

They stand in silence for a while, barely a metre apart, both breathing heavily and both with their eyes rapidly scanning the other’s face. Lexa, anxiety rising at her impulsive requests, was desperately thinking of something that she could say that would alleviate the tension and downplay the bizarre need for her to be close to Clarke.

_“What the FUCK am I do—”_

Her thoughts drifted from her mind as quickly as they ever had when Clarke, eyes blazing and jaw set in anger, once again grabs Lexa’s shirt by the shoulders, but this time she pulls her flush against herself, initiating a kiss that was much firmer than the first. 

“Clarke?” Lexa mutters as she changes the angle and deepens the kiss.

“Mhmm?” Clarke hums against her lips, sliding her hands up and around Lexa’s shoulders to rest at the nape of her neck, sending a shiver down Lexa’s spine and raising goose bumps along the bare skin she touched.

“What are you doing?”

“I don’t know.”

“Clarke—”

“My god, Lexa, make up your fucking mind!” Clarke growls, abruptly pulling herself away from Lexa and pacing once again.

“What?”

“Lexa,” Clarke says, rubbing her temples as she moves, “this is _exactly_ what I was saying before. You’re _constantly_ hot and cold, and I _never know_ what I’m supposed to be doing around you.”

“Well…” Lexa says, taking a seat on Clarke’s bed and rubbing the back of her neck, “what do you want to be doing around me?”

“Lexa, I swear to fucking— why are you like this? Why can’t you be consistent for five _fucking_ minutes?”

“Because I don’t exactly know what’s going on either, princess.”

“Well how about you fucking figure it out before pulling this shit? Instead of being all impulsive and making us both confused and—” A soft knock against the door makes both of them jump, Clarke huffing out a deep breath before making her way over to open it.

“Hey, kiddos,” Jake says, sending a warm smile to both girls, “we thought that maybe pizza would be good for dinner? We didn’t think it’d be fair to make you cook tonight,” he says softly to Clarke, who nods before looking to Lexa for confirmation.

“I don’t want to impose, Mr. Griffin, I—”

“Jake, Lexa. Please. And you’re not imposing, you managed to get my parents to shut up for once so, honestly, if we owed you dinner before, we owe you our whole kitchen now.”

“You don’t owe me anything, honestly—”

“Pizza will be great, dad. Thank you,” Clarke says quickly, glaring weakly at Lexa after Jake nods, says that he’ll ‘prepare the feast’, and turns to make his way back down the stairs. “Just accept it, Lexa. We do owe you.”

“All I did was yell at your grandparents.”

“And beat up Niylah,” Clarke says, walking over to her desk to bring the chair in front of Lexa, taking a seat and immediately tilting her head backwards to stare up at the ceiling.

“I thought you were mad about that.”

“I’m mad at you in general, Lexa. Y’know, because of the hot and cold thing I keep going on about.”

“You _have_ said that a lot, lately,” Lexa says carelessly, looking around Clarke’s bedroom before meeting her piercing, unimpressed eyes. “What?”

“Are you being a dumbass on purpose?”

“No, I’m just… thinking.”

“About what?”

“I dunno,” Lexa shrugs, “stuff.”

“Lexa, I am going to throw you out my window.”

“No, you won’t. You don’t have the upper body strength, and I’m pretty sure that I could— what are you doing?”

“Just,” Clarke sighs, reaching for the sketchbook and pencil on her desk and bringing her legs to cross underneath herself, “just… _sit there_ and think about what you need to, okay? And let me know when you figure it out.” 

And Lexa, lips still tingling from the pressure of Clarke’s mouth on her own, simply nods, sitting on the edge of Clarke’s bed and staring out the window as she thinks about what just happened, and what it all means. 

\----------------------------

“We still need to do some work for our assignment.”

“You’ve been sitting there for twenty minutes and that’s all you could come up with?” Clarke mutters, not lifting her eyes from her sketchbook and hand never ceasing its movements. 

“Well… it’s important.”

“I can name a few more things that still need to be addressed _and_ are arguably more important than maths.”

“…Touché,” Lexa mumbles, turning to look at Clarke and watch how her hand moves across the page. “What are you drawing?”

“You.”

“…Why?”

“Because you’re here and I felt like drawing.”

“That doesn’t make much sense, Clarke.”

“That’s because you’re not an artist.”

“Hey—”

“Have you thought more on what’s going on with you, Lexa?” 

“I…” Lexa sighs, rubbing at her face and returning her gaze to an expectant Clarke, “You’re a pain in my ass.”

“That has been established, yes.”

“But I’ve also grown oddly… _fond_ of you.”

“People don’t actually say they’re _fond_ of someone, Lexa.”

“Well maybe _I_ do, princess.”

“Okay, weirdo. And,” Clarke says, placing her sketchbook and pencil back on the table and reaching her hands above her head to stretch, “why have you all of a sudden grown so _fond_ of me?”

“I dunno… you’re nice?”

“Wow, thanks.”

“What do you mean, _‘wow, thanks’_ , that was actually a proper compliment for once.”

“Yeah, a compliment a five-year-old would give their teacher.”

“Why are you making this so hard for me, Clarke?”

“Because you’ve been making my life hard for the past few weeks, and now the tables have turned, and I am enjoying it thoroughly.”

“Are you enjoying it as much as you enjoyed kissing me?” Lexa says, smirking at the surprise that quickly filled Clarke’s eyes.

“This is what I’m talking about, Lexa. Can you please maintain a personality for longer than five minutes?”

“Maybe my personality is very diverse.”

“That sounds almost like you’re about to start romanticising schizophrenia.” Lexa releases a loud sigh, throwing her head back and falling onto the bed as she does so. 

“Why did you kiss me?”

“You kissed me first.”

“I mean the second time.”

“Oh… because you asked?” Lexa lifts her head, looking down her body to lift an eyebrow at Clarke.

“You don’t seem convinced with your answer.”

“Yeah, well I’m the one that has only _just_ figured out they’re bi, okay? I think I’m allowed to still be a little confused.”

“And, what? A full-fledged lesbian at the ripe old age of eighteen is supposed to know everything there is about being gay?”

“…Well, I mean—”

“It’s a process, princess, I don’t know everything. For example,” Lexa says, lifting herself onto her elbows, “I have no idea why I feel like I should be all… _gentle_ , with you. You know, considering our past.”

“Lexa,” Clarke sighs, resting her elbows on her knees and her chin on her palms, “I was six, you have to let that go.”

“I know,” Lexa sighs dramatically, falling back onto the bed again, “but still, you understand why I’m confused right?”

“I mean, yeah. But… we kinda have to figure this out.”

“Why?”

“Uhm, maybe because we have to deal with each other constantly and it’ll just create even more tension and, and… _friction_ between us?”

“…Friction?”

“Shut up,” Clarke mumbles. Lexa lifts her head again, her arms spread out to her side, and watches as a blush creeps up Clarke’s neck and across her cheeks, “Just… what exactly have we established here?”

“Uhhh,” Lexa sits up, leaning back on her palms and tilting her head to the side as she thinks, “that we are oddly fond of each other?”

“ _I_ never said I was fond of _you_.”

“Oh. Well… ouch.”

“I mean,” Lexa, frowning at the pit that had suddenly opened in her stomach, watches as Clarke chews on her bottom lip, “I’m not… _not_ fond of you, I guess.”

“I’ll take that as fondness, thank you, princess.”

“Whatever,” Lexa smiles triumphantly as Clarke rolls her eyes, “what else?”

“That… neither of us know anything?”

“Well that’s a given.”

“And that we don’t really understand how we went from hatred and contempt and annoyance to kissing?”

“Lexa, this isn’t helpful—”

“I think it’s important to figure that out though, right? I mean, how does that just—”

“I think it’s always just _been there_ , Lex.” Lexa’s head snaps up from the point on the floor she was rambling to, a slight heat creeping up her neck at how casually Clarke had called her ‘Lex’ and at the implication of that simple statement.

“…What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Clarke sighs, burying her face in her hands momentarily before looking at Lexa with determination, “I always thought you were attractive. My internal monologue when we first met again was wild,” she states, Lexa staring at her dumbly, yet again, “and I mean, there’s always been that banter, and you’ve been accidentally nice to me quite a few times, so—"

“You think I’m attractive?”

“Did you space out after I said that and not hear anything else?”

“Yes. You think I’m attractive?”

“You _know_ you’re attractive—”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know _you_ thought I was attractive.”

“Yeah, well—”

“I think you’re attractive too.”

“Yes, Lexa. I know,” Clarke sighs, exhaustion heavy in her voice.

“…You do?” Lexa takes a few moments to appreciate the unimpressed arch of Clarke’s raised eyebrow before wincing in realisation.

“Okay, we still haven’t established much.”

“We’ve established that nothing has been established?”

“Lexa, I swear I will—"

“I’m just trying to help!”

“You are doing nothing even remotely similar to _helping_! How exactly are you helping?”

“I’m repeating what’s been said so we don’t forget what we don’t know and—” Lexa’s rambling turns into a short, surprised moan when Clarke stands, leans over her, grabs her shirt again and presses her lips against Lexa’s, effectively shutting her up and entirely erasing her train of thought. 

“GIRLS!” Clarke jumps away from Lexa as Jake’s voice booms from just outside the door, “PIZZA!”

“You don’t have to yell!” Clarke shouts over her shoulder, rolling her eyes as Jake’s chuckle echoes down the hall as he walks away. Lexa watches as she sighs, returning her attention to herself and shaking her head in both amusement and annoyance. “You’re a dumbass.”

“And yet you keep kissing me.”

“And yet you’re still a dumbass. C’mon. Pizza might solve our problems.” Lexa follows Clarke out of her room and down the stairs, mind racing and barely aware of the movements of her own body.

_“I think this may be the one thing pizza can’t solve.”_

\-------------------------

Lexa sits awkwardly next to Clarke at the table, silently eating her seventh slice of pizza as she desperately tries to figure out what the _fuck_ is going on with her and Clarke.

_“We kissed. Thrice. She thinks I’m attractive and now she is the one initiating the kisses but… why? She hated me this morning… but I guess she was also showing some gratitude, which was weird. Maybe her parents spoke to her? But that would be even weirder, because that would mean she only likes me because her parents told her to. But, wait… does she like me? Like, as a friend? Or MORE than a friend? But that would be weird, we don’t like each other… unless Clarke was right and we both actually like each other and neither of us have been aware of it because she only just started figuring out her sexuality and I’ve been hellbent on making a point and being a cun—”_

“You okay there, Lexa?” Abby’s soft voice pulls her from her spiralling thoughts, her head snapping up from the intense gaze she had had on her pizza to find all of the Griffins watching her, “we can hear the gears turning.”

“Yeah, and you’ve been chewing that same bite of pizza for almost two minutes,” Jake chuckles, reaching for another slice of pizza. 

“I uh,” Lexa stammers, her eyes wide as she looks to her left to see Clarke watching her carefully, “I just have a… a lot on my mind.”

“Sweetheart,” Abby coos, “if you’re worried about what happened with Clarke’s grandparents, please don’t. We are nothing but appreciative and, honestly, slightly embarrassed that we weren’t able to do that ourselves.”

“We really do owe you, kiddo… for more than you truly realise,” Jakes says, kind smile and soft eyes comforting Lexa more than his words. 

“The way you defended Clarke at that party was also admirable, however—”

“Yeah, we heard you beat her up pretty bad,” Jake grins, “where did you learn to do that?”

“Dad—”

“Jake, please, we shouldn’t be encouraging violence.”

“Hey, if someone kissed my daughter without her consent, I think it’s better someone other than me was the one to deal with it.”

“Why? Because you’d just shake your head in disappointment at them?” 

“Hey! I knew how to fight, back in the day.”

“I have known you for twenty-one years and I have never seen you so much as square up with someone else—”

“That’s because I’m brilliant with my words, my dear, I—”

“Your vows were just dramatically yelling ‘that’s not my girlfriend, that’s my wife’, Jake.”

Lexa watches at Jake and Abby playfully argue, taking it in turns to mildly insult each other and occasionally demand an apology from the other (which they got) before insulting each other some more.

“They’ll be like this for a while,” Clarke whispers, standing up slowly, “c’mon, we can go do the maths you’re so anxious to do.” Lexa stands following Clarke to the sink to wash their hands and then up the stairs and back into her bedroom, awkwardly standing near the closed door as Clarke moves about, grabbing the booklet from her backpack, grabbing a pile of pillows from her cupboard and throwing them on the floor, and then dropping herself onto them and looking up at Lexa expectantly.

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Are you going to sit your ass down and help me do maths, or are you going to continue staring at me while you twiddle your thumbs?”

“…I quite like twiddling—”

“Sit down, Lexa.”

“This still doesn’t make any sense, Clarke.”

“I know,” Clarke sighs, crossing her legs and beckoning for Lexa to join her, “so we are going to get this done and then we can talk and get nowhere some more afterwards, okay?” Lexa, briefly contemplating the plan, slowly makes her way over to her own bag and grabs what she needs, sitting beside Clarke and opening the booklet. 

They work in relative silence, Clarke sometimes watching over Lexa’s shoulder to see how she solves a question before trying to do it herself. To Lexa’s mild surprise, she successfully recreates the solution with only a few glances to remember the next step, but otherwise not requiring any lengthy explanations like she had previously.

“When did you get so okay with maths?”

“You know I do actually listen to you when you explain things, right? These questions are super similar to the ones we did last week. I can remember shit; I just can’t figure it out like you can.” Lexa nods, returning her focus back to the questions and internally smiling at the progress that Clarke has made. 

_“Why do I feel… pride?”_

“Why did you do that?”

“Hmm?”

“That step, why did you do it?” Lexa turns to see Clarke looking over she shoulder, eyebrows scrunched and mouth in a deep pout and just a few inches away from her face. She traces the lines and curves of Clarke’s face, taking in the strong cheekbones and the tiny freckle sitting above her lip. She watches how her eyelashes flutter every time she blinks, and how the creases between her eyebrows deepen as time continues on around them. 

“What are you doing?” Lexa whispers, lips parting slightly at the confused blue eyes that turn to stare at her.

“I’m asking you why you did that step? You have never done that before, why are you doing it now?”

“I meant,” Lexa sighs, turning away from Clarke falling onto her side, the plethora of pillows surrounding them cushioning her fall, “what are you doing to _me_?”

“Annoying you, probably.”

“Well, yes, but in the grander scheme of things?”

“…What are you talking about Lexa?”

“How have things changed so quickly,” Lexa groans through the small gap in her hands as she covers her face while it burns, “why is everything you do now so fucking endearing?”

“…Maybe because you’ve realised your hatred was wrongly placed?” Lexa just groans into her hands, feeling Clarke move closer to her and lean over her, “and also that my boobs aren’t the only thing cute about me?” Lexa groans again, sliding her hands down from her eyes so that she can look up at a grinning Clarke.

“It was one time.”

“Oh, right. And, uh, which time are you referring to? The time by the pool, when I was fixing your hand, at your gym, or maybe—”

“Okay! I get it, yes, thank you,” Lexa gently shoves at Clarke’s shoulder so she can sit up, ignoring the sound of Clarke’s giggles as she huffs, “y’know, you’re not exactly consistent with how you’re dealing with all this either.”

“Very true. I am just as confused as you are, apparently, so now this is who we are. Delirious, annoyed, flirty people who know absolutely nothing about anything.”

“This isn’t flirting, princess.”

“Sure, it isn’t, just like how you weren’t staring at my boobs other than that _one time_.”

“You’re the worst.”

“And yet you find me endearing.”

“Don’t forget _infuriating_.”

“Well, I thought that was a given?” Lexa squints at Clarke, searching her eyes for more meaning than she is able to gather.

“This still doesn’t make sense.”

“I know.”

“What are we going to do?”

“Maths.”

“And then what?”

“I dunno,” Clarke says dropping herself to take up the position that Lexa was previously in,  
laying down around Lexa, “argue some more about how we both know nothing?”

“ _That_ ,” Lexa says, grabbing her own booklet from the floor and throwing Clarke’s onto her stomach, “is a terrible plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aight, so terrible plans have been put into motion in both fiction and real life. 
> 
> I've started a discord server so we can chat but MOSTLY because I wanna create a dramatic ass Sims 4 universe surrounding the delinquents and I want to share that with other humans. 
> 
> Here be the link: https://discord.gg/GJxPpuR
> 
> Introduce yourself first with your name on this so I know who yall are. 
> 
> Also, again, come chat on insta, I post original memes and will soon be posting prompts I find on the internet that I then turn gay: @the.unprofessional.writer


	23. Relentless Metronome of Confusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Waddup homies, I just wanna say a few things. I don't usually address things that are said (other than showing my appreciation for your kindness) but I feel like it may be time.
> 
> 1\. I'm all for constructive criticism. That's why I decided to update this as I wrote it (even though I've found it's a terrible way to write). That being said, if it isn't said with kindness, I won't be listening. Even if your intentions are pure, if it is written in a way that is easily interpreted as an attack, I will actively go against what you say because I'm spiteful like that. So, if you're going to offer criticism, make sure it is actually constructive to start with and, if it is your intention, make sure I know you're saying it to help, not to just attack (thank you if you were kind about it, I see you and I appreciate the feedback).  
> 2\. This is the first thing I have ever written besides short stories that were mandatory in high school. My main motivation to write fanfiction is to practice for bigger things. Therefore, I am learning everything as I go, and that means I will make mistakes.  
> 3\. Fun fact: I wasn't at all happy with the last chapter. I knew it wasn't very strong, but I wanted that part done so I could move on with the story. I appreciate everyone who enjoyed it, and I understand those who questioned it, but don't be an ass about it please.  
> I hope yall enjoy this chapter, I wrote it all at once which was wild. Thank you for the ongoing support, I really appreciate it.
> 
> Cheers

“You never showed me that drawing you did yesterday.” 

“I’ll show you later,” Clarke says, not lifting her gaze from her phone as she slouches over the desk in homeroom.

“What’s up with you?” Clarke takes a deep breath as Lexa sits next to her, placing her feet on the metal frame and shaking the desk, as she always does. 

“Nothing. I’m just…” she chances a glance at Lexa who, to her annoyance, was wearing a soft frown as she watches her, “tired.” Clarke returns her attention to her phone, desperately hoping that Lexa would just let it be and leave her to her pouting. 

While she isn’t lying, she _is_ tired, Clarke couldn’t stop thinking about the previous day, the rollercoaster that it was, and the lips that were the catalyst for her crisis. Because, while those lips sent her grandparents straight out the door and offered to take the ‘blame’ for the rumour, those lips had also broken Clarke’s entire understanding of who Lexa was, and how she fit into Clarke’s life. 

She knew that her and Lexa were a mess, especially together. They did nothing but bicker and hurt each other, each finding some form of joy in riling up the other and watching them internally combust while they flounder and glare. Lexa was the constant stick in her side that she could always count on to add some unnecessary drama or confusion to her life, and that was her primary role.

But she also knew that the kiss, and those that followed, felt _goddamn amazing_. 

And it annoyed the living fuck out of her.

Because the Lexa she knew, while always having been able to make her nervous and anxious, couldn’t ever have made her feel that _calm_. 

Because, for the first time in a while, while her only focus was Lexa’s lips and her soft breath hitting her cheek, she wasn’t thinking about what came next. 

And because, for the first time, maybe ever, Clarke didn’t feel like she had to explain her actions. 

Lexa was a pain in her ass, and she could hold a grudge like a motherfucker, but she was annoyingly content to have just… let yesterday _be_. 

_“Goddamn chivalry trumping her dumbassery and ego.”_

“Uh huh,” another glance allows her to watch the formation of a perfect arch in Lexa’s eyebrow, “I don’t believe that for a second.”

“It’s fine, Lexa. I just… need to think.”

“About what?”

“Lexa—”

“Uh, hey, guys,” Luna appears in front of their desk, “sorry if I’m interrupting.”

“You’re good, Luna,” Clarke says quickly, ignoring the deepening of Lexa’s frown in favour of watching an awkward smile pull at Luna’s lips, “what’s up?”

“I just wanted to apologise for… everything.”

“What do you have to apologise for?” Lexa asks.

“The party. Not noticing that some fuckers got in and started a whole bunch of shit that isn’t anyone’s business but your own.”

“It’s fine, Luna.”

“Yeah, we don’t blame you,” Clarke says, her eyes drifting over Luna’s shoulder to see a group of freshmen whispering to each other as they point in their direction.

“Still,” Luna continues, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and looking around quickly before bending to kneel in front of the desk, “I just want you guys to know that… we’re here for you. All of us. Lex already knows,” she directs to Clarke, “but really, we’re on your side.”

“Thank you, but there isn’t really a whole lot that can be done—”

“Do you little fuckos wanna say shit to our faces or are you just gonna sit there and stare and whisper like the shits you are?!” Clarke jumps as Finn’s voice erupts from beside her, turning to watch as the group of freshmen behind Luna burn red and quickly turn back to the front of the room. 

“Thank you, Finn,” Lexa says, leaning back in her chair and reaching behind Clarke to give him a reluctant fist bump, shaking her head at the nod he gives and the serious expression that she had never seen adorn Finn’s features. 

“Anyway,” Luna says, standing, “I’m just saying that you guys have friends and, regardless of whether the whole, uh, _dating_ rumour is true, we’ll support you guys with how you wanna deal with all this.” Clarke smiles softly, the bell ringing and Luna, sending one last soft look to Lexa, returns to her desk to gather her things.

“C’mon,” Lexa says, standing and throwing her bag onto her shoulders, “I’ll walk you to class.” 

Clarke, still in her seat, just stares up at Lexa, anger rising at the mix of emotions that the offer creates within her.

“Why?”

“Why what?” Clarke stands, grabbing her own bag.

“Why are you walking me to class?”

“Oh. I dunno… so people don’t stare?”

“I’m pretty sure that more people will stare if we’re seen together, Lexa.”

“Well, yeah, but I can take the brunt of it.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m just saying that I, uhh…” Clarke watches the way Lexa’s throat bobs and her neck turns a faint pink, staring, incredulous, as she begins shifting her weight from foot to foot, “I can block the stares. So you don’t have to feel people’s eyes… and stuff.”

“Lexa,” Clarke begins, stepping around the desk and walking towards the door with Lexa following close behind, “I don’t need a shield. I’m perfectly capable of _walking_ alone.”

“I’m just saying that I—”

“I’m fine, Lexa. Thanks.” The finality in Clarke’s voice stops Lexa in the middle of the hallway, Clarke having to step around her to head in the direction of her next class.

As Clarke walks, she can feel the eyes of other students follow her through the hall, burning the back of her neck. However, the green eyes that had looked so hurt and confused bother her the most. 

\-----------------------

“You guys fucking _kissed_ and we’re only _just_ finding out about it now?!”

“Shhhh!” Clarke hisses, grateful that the rest of the delinquents hadn’t made it out to the field yet, “I don’t need the whole fucking school knowing.”

“Yeah,” Raven says, popping a grape in her mouth, “it’s not like the school already knows too much or anything.”

“Sorry,” Octavia whispers, leaning into the circle that the three girls found themselves sitting in, “but how the _fuck_ did that happen?”

“I dunno,” Clarke says, resting her chin on her palm and her elbow on her knee, “I was yelling at her for being so confusing and then she just… asked to kiss me.”

“And you said yes?”

“No, Octavia, I threw a shoe at her. Yes, I said yes. Apparently. I don’t really remember how the first one went, but—”

“The _first_ one?! There were _multiple_ kisses?” Clarke groans, bringing both palms to her face. 

“Kinda,” she mumbles

“No no,” Octavia says, shaking a finger at Clarke, “there isn’t a _kinda_. You either kissed more than once or you didn’t, so which is it?” Clarke, peering from between her fingers, blushes furiously at the eager eyes and wide grins on the faces of her friends. 

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“It was like, three times.”

“ _Three?!_ ”

“That isn’t even that many!” Clarke tries to defend.

“It is when you guys were literally _just_ hating each other!”

“Yeah,” Raven grins, “how did that happen?”

“I _don’t know_ ,” Clarke groans again, falling onto her back as her friends just laugh, “we tried to talk about it but we either started kissing again or I’d yell at her for being a dumbass.”

“I think you’re both dumbasses, Clarkey.”

“Shut up,” Clarke says, swatting at the grape that Raven throws at her head, “you’re completely right, but shut up.”

“How did you guys go from yelling to kissing?”

“I literally cannot tell you how many times we tried to answer that ourselves.”

“And?”

“And we don’t _fucking know_.”

“Nawww,” Raven coos, crawling closer to Clarke to lean over her and poke her cheek, “you guys are _adorable_.”

“No, we’re not,” she pouts, “we’re confused and useless and now I’m _angry_ because what the _fuck_?”

“Why are you angry? Lexa is cute and I’m sure she would be total girlfriend material once she lets go of all those grudges.”

“Okay, first,” Clarke says, finally pushing Raven away and sitting up, “Lexa isn’t _that_ cute—”

“Yes, she is.”

"Yeah, have you seen her abs? And those _tattoos—"_

“Yes, shut up, geez. Secondly, I only _just_ figured out that I’m kinda bi—”

“Not kinda, you just are.”

“Thank you, Raven, but I don’t think it’s wise that I just… jump into something. With the girl that has been a royal _pain in my ass_ for the past month and a bit, no less.”

“Hey, the heart wants what it wants,” Raven says, dramatically placing a grape between her lips and sucking it into her mouth with a ‘pop’.

“Yeah, Raven wants Anya—”

“Hey—”

“—and you want Lexa,” Octavia grins.

“I don’t want Lexa.”

“Then why are you so mad about being confused?”

“Because people don’t generally enjoy being confused, O.”

“Well then why are you so confused in the first place?”

“Because she’s confusing?”

“And why do you think she is so—”

“I don’t want Lexa! Sure, the kisses were good and she apparently isn’t who I thought she was, but—”

“Okay, then I’ll take her,” Octavia says, waving off the immediate frown that spreads across Clarke’s face.

“Wait,” Clarke says, “what do you mean _you’ll take her_?”

“Well, _I_ think she’s cute, and—”

“I thought you and Lincoln were hitting it off,” Clarke interrupts, voice getting higher.

“Well, maybe I’ve decided I want Lexa instead.”

“But… she’s not yours to take.”

“Then whose is she?”

“No one’s! She’s her own person and—”

“Clarke,” Raven says gently, a contrast to the shit eating grin she wears.

“What?!”

“You look like you’re panicking.”

“I’m not panicking, I just don’t know what the point was to say shit like— _ohhhhhhh_ ,” Clarke, eyes wide and, to Raven’s quiet delight, filled with panic, brings her hands up to cradle her face, “I… no.”

“No?”

“No. She’s just so… overbearing.”

“Clarke,” Octavia laughs, sharing a worried glance with Raven, “how the fuck is she overbearing?”

“She’s been constantly trying to protect me since this, this _shit_ started, and there’s no reason for it!”

“Some would call that chivalry, Clarke.”

“Yeah, and with how she dealt with your grandparents I’d be worshipping every in—"

“We aren’t together! She doesn’t just get to make the decision that I need protecting!”

“Clarke, you really need to decide what you want from her—”

“I FUCKING KNOW!” Clarke shouts, falling onto her back once more, “that’s what I’ve been fucking saying, I don’t _know_ what I want. Everything has just started changing so goddamn fast and I have no idea _how_.”

“That’s just how life is sometimes, Clarkey.”

“Yeah,” Raven says, leaning over Clarke and continuing to poke her cheek, “that just be how life be. So,” Raven gently slaps Clarke’s cheek and reaches over to grab a grape and put it in Clarke’s mouth, “you should try to enjoy it.”

“How exactly am I supposed to _enjoy_ all this?”

“Well, you can start by enjoying all those kisses,” Raven says, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively while Clarke groans. 

“Give us more details on the kisses.”

“For fucks sake, O, who cares?”

“Literally everyone. Everyone wants to know. So,” she says, stealing a grape, “how did you feel when you guys kissed?” Clarke stares at her, watching her chew and raise an eyebrow in question.

_“They were fucking amazing. I felt fucking amazing.”_

“They were good,” Clarke says, rubbing at her eyes, “I felt… good.”

\---------------------

After the conversation she had with Octavia and Raven, Clarke was borderline furious. 

She had been slowly working on convincing herself that the kisses meant nothing, and they were just the result of an overly emotional day, but now, especially with the weird tightening in her chest and emptiness in her stomach that she had felt when Octavia declared she would take Lexa, she was finding it extremely difficult to think about anything other than how fucking amazing those kisses were. 

And how much she’d like to do it again. 

However, as Clarke sat cross-legged on the wall outside school at the end of the day, waiting for Lexa to show up so they can do their assignment, she still couldn’t help but think it was an awful idea to even _consider_ thinking of Lexa as more than a friend.

_“Hell, I only just started thinking of her as a friend. And she’s already practically dived into the role of chivalrous girlfriend… and what the fuck is up with her suddenly thinking rationally? She hated me for so long and now, all of a sudden, it’s almost like she’s forgotten about it and looks at me like I’m special and—"_

“Uh, hey, Clarke,” Clarke jumps, feeling a hand grab her arm and another grab her leg to stop her from falling off the wall, “sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Niylah,” Clarke huffs, faint blush tinting her cheeks, “what are you doing here?”

“I, uh…” Niylah pauses looking around awkwardly at the hordes of students filing past, “I just wanted to apologise. Again. For, uh… for my behaviour at the party. It was super uncalled for and I shouldn’t have done that just to get at Lexa and—”

“Niylah, we already had this conversation. It’s fine, but also, please fuck off.”

“Clarke, please,” Niylah begs, stepping closer to the wall and to Clarke, “I’m so sorry. I’ll never do anything like that ever again, and I promise I’ll leave you and Lexa alone but, please, can we still be friends? I really enjoy talking to you.” Clarke takes a deep breath, releasing it as she watches desperation flood into Niylah’s eyes.

“I dunno, Niylah. There is a lot going on right now and I kinda need to—”

“Everything alright here?” Clarke jumps again as Lexa appears next to her, sliding herself between her and Niylah.

“Clarke and I were just talking and—”

“She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“Uh yeah, hi,” Clarke taps Lexa on the shoulder, feeling no fear from the intimidating posture, clenched jaw, and feral eyes that was Lexa as she eyed Niylah up and down, “the ‘she’ you are referring to is right here and perfectly capable of speaking for herself.”

“Yeah, I was just apologising, again, and Clarke was saying that—”

“I think it’s best you leave.”

“Lexa—”

“You’re not the boss around here, Lexa, I can talk to her if I want—”

“No, you lost that _privilege_ when you pulled that shit at the party,” Lexa growls, “so, again, I think it’s best you leave—”

“Lexa, a word, please?” Clarke hisses, pulling Lexa back by the shoulder so her back was against the wall. “Niylah, I’ll talk to you tomorrow in English, okay?”

“Sure thing, Clarke,” Niylah says, glaring at Lexa as she backs away, “I’ll see you then.”

“Why did you just let her off the hook? You should be—”

“Lexa,” Clarke tugs at Lexa’s shoulder again so she turns around and has to look up at her on the wall, “what the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?”

“I was telling Niylah to fuck off and—”

“No, you were speaking on my behalf and being an absolute fucking prick.”

“I was just trying to—”

“Protect me?” Clarke says, voice rising, “Make sure that no one does anything bad to me because I’m weak and delicate and incapable of looking after myself?”

“That’s not—”

“Lexa, I’m fucking fine. I don’t need you to constantly… _speak for me_. Like, if I could survive the bullshit you gave me, I can deal with an apologetic Niylah.”

“You’re not weak, Clarke, I was just—”

“Just being the normal, hot and cold you! Just a week ago you were giving me so much fucking shit and now you won’t stop fucking protecting me and being all gentle and it’s _infuriating_!”

“How is me being _nice_ so infuriating?”

“Because it doesn’t make sense, Lexa,” Clarke says, feeling the eyes of onlookers burn the side of her head, “you jump from one thing to another like the last thing didn’t happen! You _loathed_ me. You were fucking blaming me for your parents’ death and now it’s like you’ve completely forgotten about it and—”

“I haven’t forgotten, I’ve just moved past it.”

“And since when were you that emotionally balanced? What the fuck happened that made you start to think rationally?”

“I would argue that this isn’t rational, princess,” Lexa grits, anger and hurt swimming in her eyes.

“Then what exactly would you call it? Because you’re just hot and—”

“Hot and cold, yeah, as you’ve said. I’m not the only one being hot and cold here, Clarke. You were hating me yesterday morning, kissing me yesterday afternoon, and now you’re all shitty with me again.”

“Because I’m _confused_ , Lexa. I thought that was the one thing we established yesterday. And—"

“That doesn’t mean you get the right to shout at me for being hot and cold and then go around and be that yourself.”

“So, you’re allowed to be a relentless metronome with your behaviour for _weeks_ , but I do it for a few days and I’m being, what? Unreasonable?”

“That’s not what I’m—” Lexa sighs, “I’m just trying to… _fix things_.”

“Why? Since when do you care so much? And you didn’t answer me: since when are you all emotionally balanced?”

“I don’t fucking know, Clarke. I’m just as confused as you are, I’m just dealing with that confusion a lot better.”

“Oh well that’s great. Good for you. I’m glad that—”

“You told me to sit and think yesterday and I did, princess. Maybe you should have taken your own fucking advice.”

“What do you think happens when I draw? My mind turns into rainbows and butterflies and nothing else exists? I _was_ thinking, I just can’t _fucking figure it out_ ,” she inhales sharply, “and when I think I have it figured out, you go and do something that’s completely out of character and—”

“It’s not out of character, you just—”

“You’re being overbearing, Lexa, as if we’re… amazing _friends_ or something.”

“I’m just trying to be nice, Clarke!”

“Well it’s weird! Cut it out!”

“What, you want me to go back to being a douche?”

“No, I just—" Clarke lets out a high growl, “I just… I don’t fucking know. But you have no _right_ to speak on my behalf. We’re not together, Lexa, you don’t have the right to just butt into everything and take control.”

“Fine, I won’t, I’m sorry I was just trying to make this whole shit show easier on you.”

“I can handle myself, Lexa.”

“Sure, of course you can. How could I ever forget how steadfast you stood when you blamed me for ruining your pancakes.”

“Are you kidding me?! You’re still hung up on that?”

“Yes! It was a very bizarre moment in my life, I’m always gonna be _‘hung up on it’_. Who the fuck does that?”

“I’m sorry I’m just as emotionally stupid as you are, dumbass,” Clarke says, jumping down from the wall and standing directly in front of Lexa, “but the fact that you _still_ bring that up destroys my whole argument.”

“What?”

“Yeah. You’re still the same grudge holder that I met at the end of summer. I guess you’ve just found another way to make my life hell.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Clarke? How am I—”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Lexa,” Clarke sighs, throwing her bag onto her shoulders and going to walk past Lexa, desperately trying to avoid the numerous eyes staring at her. 

She’s stopped by a hand to her right bicep, pulling her back so she is standing in front of Lexa once again. 

“We have to do our assignment.”

“It can wait a day.”

“Well…” Clarke frowns at the… _desperation_ that fuels Lexa’s movements as she searches Clarke’s face, “you said you’d show me that drawing,” she says finally, soft and tender and vulnerable. 

Clarke stares, confused by the sudden lack of fire in Lexa’s eyes, taken aback by how distressed she sounds and by how small she now looks. 

“I’ll show you another time, Lexa,” she says softly, ignoring the clenching of her chest at the sadness and embarrassment that colours Lexa’s features, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Lexa releases her grip on Clarke’s bicep, nodding once before turning around and heading towards the carpark, head down and shoulders hanging heavy. Clarke watches her, ignoring the eyes surrounding her and the soft chatter that slowly begins to rise.

_“What the fuck was that?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys thought I would make this easy, you should know I revel in the chaos. 
> 
> NOTE: I'm probably going to stop updating as I write this and instead finish it (or at least write a few chapters ahead) and then continue posting. While updating as I go is kinda good in the terms of feedback, it sucks ass to write. New ideas can't be thrown in very easily and I have to live with constant inconsistency. That being said, I promise I'll update asap (gimme 2-3weeks maybe), I don't wanna leave you all hanging for ages.
> 
> DISCORD SERVER: It has been launched! I'm still figuring it out and all that jazz but come and chat: https://discord.gg/GJxPpuR
> 
> Also, come chat on insta, I may post memes and prompts and stuff: @the.unprofessional.writer


	24. Honorary Delinquent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a month, but ya boi is back with an update.
> 
> Mental health has been shit because of life, so didn't really write at all for a while. HOWEVER, I have now planned out another 8 chapters or so, and I did write this so, hey, something was done, I guess. 
> 
> I truly appreciate all the kind words and the patience, I shall hopefully return to consistent writing and frequent updates. 
> 
> Cheers!

Things had been tense with Clarke since their argument in front of the school on Tuesday afternoon, all their usual banter gone, and instead a heavy awkwardness followed them whenever they were together. The unease in Lexa’s stomach hadn’t wavered, and she had found herself in a position she didn’t want to be in, and yet she also didn’t seem to want to leave, either.

Lexa had wordlessly nodded in agreement that they would meet at Clarke’s later in the afternoons to work on their assignment instead of making their way there together, even though she wanted to argue that that would waste time, and that she is happy to give Clarke a lift instead of letting her walk home by herself.

She had hidden her proud smile when she found Clarke working through the maths questions with practically no help, checking her answers and looking so childish in her glee when they were correct. 

She had scowled when she saw Clarke talking to Niylah in the hallway on Wednesday, laughing and smiling and being all too friendly to someone _like her_.

She had tried to hide her disappointment and embarrassment when she had told a group of freshmen to fuck off when they started asking Clarke inappropriate questions on Thursday afternoon, and Clarke had just rolled her eyes, pushed off the wall she was leaning on, and walked away, leaving Lexa to deal with the snickers of the freshmen as they asked her how comfy the doghouse was. 

And she had tried to nonchalantly shrug off Monty’s concern and tightly smile through Luna’s apology and rambling support. Again. 

“You know, you could just tell her how you feel.”

“Oh, great idea, Anya. Now, please, do tell me how I feel.”

“Watch it, smartass,” Anya says through the phone, Lexa pacing in her bedroom and sighing up at the ceiling, “you may be some small time boxing legend, but I could still kick your ass with both my hands tied behind my back.”

“I’d hardly say I’m a legend—”

“Lexa,” Anya interrupts, “focus.”

“What am I even focusing on, Ahn? There isn’t anything _to_ focus on.”

“That’s a load of bullshit and you know it.” Lexa drops her chin to her chest, closing her eyes and taking deep breaths. 

“I know, it’s just,” her voice wavers, “I dunno what to do, Ahn.” There’s silence on the other end, Lexa checking she hadn’t accidentally hung up on her and jumping slightly at the sudden huff she hears.

“How do you feel, Lexa?”

“I just told you, I don’t know—”

“No, I mean physically. What are the physical ‘symptoms’ of your… _unease_?”

“Oh,” Lexa pauses, staring at the ground, “my stomach feels funny, I guess.”

“What kind of funny?”

“I dunno… kinda like I need to throw up, but I also really don’t?”

“Okay, what else?”

“Uhmm,” Lexa stops her pacing to sit on her bed, legs crossed underneath her, “I dunno.”

“This isn’t going to work if you don’t cooperate, Lexa.”

“I am! I just… don’t know how I feel.”

“Fine,” she hears Anya huff again, “how do you feel when Clarke gets angry with you?”

“Confused?”

“ _Physically_ , Lexa.”

“Oh.” Lexa brings a hand up to rub her eyes, letting herself fall back onto the bed as stars explode behind her eyelids. “Kinda like something leaves my body.”

“…Explain.”

“I don’t know, Anya,” Lexa sighs, “like it starts at my head and all the way down my body something… _leaves_.”

“Okayyy, can you tell me what that _‘something’_ is?”

“…No.” Lexa winces and pulls the phone away from her ear as Anya releases a loud groan.

“You really have no idea what’s going on with you, do you?”

“That’s kinda what I’ve been saying, Ahn.”

“Lex, you’re…” Anya sighs, “you’ll figure it out.”

“…You think so?”

“No, but that’s what I’m supposed to say. Otherwise I’m, like, a bitch or something.”

“Gee, thanks. What would I ever do without your amazing advice?”

“I dunno, you’d probably still be blaming your crush for your parent’s death, though.”

“Hey, I was angry, okay? And rightfully so, Clarke fucked up a lot for me way back when.” Lexa stares at her ceiling for a while, Anya silent, as she thinks about how long she misdirected her anger and— 

“WAIT—”

“There we go,” Anya says, laughter erupting from Lexa’s phone as she shoots upright, jumping from her bed and standing in the centre of her bedroom. 

Lexa, eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed, stares at the floor as Anya continues to laugh, barely hearing her comments of ‘taking long enough’ and ‘like getting a lesbian to u-haul across the country’.

_“Fucking why—"_

\--------------------------

“Fucking why,” Murphy grumbles from the front door, “do you need a chair this big and fancy for a goddamn gym?”

“Because I value comfort, Murphy,” Lexa replies from behind the front counter of her gym, bending to plug in the new computer. “I want my back cushioned like a swaddled newborn.”

“Well get some blankets, wrap yourself in them, boom, swaddled newborn comfort.”

“I can’t just waltz around with blankets wrapped around my waist, Murph.”

“That’s why you’d just walk, Woods. No one waltzes these days. We aren’t cultured enough.”

“Maybe you aren’t, but I can waltz like a goddamn angel.”

“Then you and your fancy ass chair can waltz around the gym until your heart’s content, while onlookers tremble in the ferocity of your gym owning, frolicking ass and your chair’s sheer size and heft.”

“Don’t you insult my chair and it’s heft, it’s just the size it should be.”

“Yeah, for a seven-foot mob boss, not a puny mortal such as yourself.”

“I will kick that toned ass of yours quicker than you can bring that damn chair through the door.”

“This chair could—and is—kicking my ass,” Murphy grunts, red faced and panting as he finally drops the chair in front of the counter. “You’re not special.”

“Do you two want to be left alone, or?”

“Bell,” Lexa appears from behind the counter, “he’s making fun of my chair.”

“It’s a big chair, Lex.”

“It has good lumbar support!”

“So does the floor,” Murphy mutters.

“Say that to my face, you melon—”

“Seriously, do you want me to leave? Because I finished putting up those banners and prints.”

“No, I need you here as a witness.”

“For what?”

“For when I clean the floor with Murphy’s ass.”

“Y’know,” Murphy smirks, leaning against the counter and ignoring Lexa’s scowl, “I don’t think Clarke would appreciate how much you think and talk about my ass.”

“Hey—” Lexa stops to turn and glare at Bellamy, who failed to conceal his snort of laughter, “Et tu, Bell?” Lexa frowns when Bellamy just nods, raising his hand and receiving a humble high five from Murphy.

“You gotta give it to him, Lex.” Lexa mimics Bellamy and sticks her tongue out at Murphy as she sets up the computer.

“What’s going on with you and Clarkey, anyway?” Murphy asks, throwing himself into the chair.

“I dunno,” Lexa mumbles, not moving her eyes away from the screen, “why? What has she said?” She looks up after a few moments of silence to see Bellamy and Murphy in a silent conversation, staring at each other with increasingly intense eyes. “What?”

“Uhh,” Murphy begins, glaring in mock anger at Bellamy who, to both Lexa’s entertainment and suspicion, takes sweeping looks around the room to avoid her eyes, “she’s just been… venting.”

“Venting?” Lexa stands up straight, feigning nonchalance as she puts her hands in her tracksuit pockets. “What do you mean by, uh… venting?”

“Y’know, just…” he looks desperately at Bellamy, who was now intently reading one of the business cards from the counter, “just about… you.”

“What about me?”

“Just…” Murphy sighs, throwing his head back to stare at the ceiling before bringing his gaze back to Lexa, determined, “she’s been complaining about how protective you are of her.”

“I’m not—”

“And how you look like a kicked puppy whenever she doesn’t appreciate it.”

“Hey, now that’s—”

“And how you being nice and all is confusing and she doesn’t know how to feel about it.”

“Why is being nice such an—”

“And how you guys kissed.”

“She wha—”

“Oh yeah, she talks about that a lot,” Bellamy mumbles, eyes still glued to the business card. 

“Wait,” Lexa says, desperate and confused, “she _told _you guys that we kissed?”__

____

“…Yeah?” Bellamy finally looks up from the card.

____

“Why wouldn’t she?”

____

“Why _would_ she?” Lexa asks.

____

“There’s really no secrets amongst the delinquents, Woods,” Murphy says, reaching forward to take the card from Bellamy’s hand, “it’s a new rule.”

____

“A good one, too,” Bellamy adds.

____

“But…” Lexa runs a hand through her hair and leans against the counter, “but still?”

____

“Lex,” Bellamy says, walking around the counter to lean against the wall behind it so he faces Lexa, “Clarke is… confused. And we’re all just trying to help out with the shit show that’s been happening over the last few weeks.”

____

“We stick together, Woods,” Murphy mumbles from behind the card.

____

“So, we listen to her vent and try to… help.”

____

“You don’t sound so sure about the _‘help’_ part,” Lexa grumbles, rubbing at her face.

____

“We…” Bellamy sighs, “we’re doing what we can without interfering _too_ much. But that doesn’t really leave us a lot of room to actually… help.”

____

“It’s a complicated mess of confusion and homosexuality,” Murphy mumbles again. 

____

“What _exactly_ has she said?” Lexa groans.

____

“I dunno, Lex,” Bellamy says, reaching to rub at the nape of his neck, “maybe you should just… ask her?”

____

“She’s not really talking to me right now,” she grumbles. 

____

“Wait, really?”

____

“Uhh, yeah?”

____

“She didn’t mention that,” Murphy says, throwing the card back onto the counter.

____

“Yeah,” Bellamy frowns, “what happened?”

____

“I was… I tried to tell Niylah to fuck off and she got all… mad.”

____

“Ohhhhhh,” Bellamy and Murphy say in unison, “that.”

____

“She told you guys about that, too?”

____

“Of course, she did,” Murphy says, “that’s how the first venting session begun.”

____

“So, she hasn’t been talking to you at all?”

____

“Not really,” Lexa sinks further onto the counter, “she might ask a question while we do our assignment, but otherwise, no. If I talk to her, she’ll respond but… not very much.” She waits while the boys just stare at her, thoughtful looks gracing their features, and a playful smirk spreading across Murphy’s face.

____

“And how does that make you feel?” Lexa huffs out a quick laugh, shaking her head. She stops, though, mulling over what she had been told and working through how the silence from Clarke made her feel… _empty_. 

____

“…weird.”

____

“What kind of weird?”

____

“Like,” Lexa huffs again, shooting an annoyed look his way, “like something is… _missing_.”

____

“So, what do you want?”

____

“What… what do you mean?”

____

“What do you want from her? What do you want to change?”

____

“I just… I just want her to _talk_ to me.”

____

“…That’s it?”

____

“I mean… I think so?”

____

“You _think_ so? Or do you _know_ so?”

____

“Why are you doing this, Murphy?”

____

“Because,” he laughs, “it’s fun. And, also, we all want this to resolve itself so we can go back to being delinquents, so answer the damn question.” Lexa sends a pleading look to Bellamy.

____

“You’re not gonna help?”

____

“Nope,” he smiles, “sorry Lex.”

____

“What do you want, Woods?” Lexa sighs, throwing her head back and closing her eyes as she lets out an irritated groan.

____

“I want her to talk to me.”

____

“And?”

____

“And I want her to tell me what _she_ wants.”

____

“What she wants?”

____

“Yes. I want her to explain to me what she wants me to do so I can stop accidentally pissing her off when all I’m trying to do is be nice and make up for what an ass I was before, and I want her to talk to me. Like we _used_ to. We used to banter—even when we hated each other—we _bantered_ , and it was _great_. She’s witty and funny and she is the only person that can keep me on my toes when we have our weird ass conversations, and I just want her to _talk_ to me again.” She returns her gaze to Murphy, breathing heavily and cheeks flushed with both anger and embarrassment. 

____

“Hmm,” Murphy hums, leaning forward in the chair. “Do you want my advice?” She huffs out another breath.

____

“…Sure.” She watches nervously as Murphy shares a grin with Bellamy.

____

“Ask her on a date, Woods,” he pauses, leaning back in the chair and putting his hands behind his head, “you’re in love.”

____

\-----------------------------

____

____

“I’m already regretting this.”

____

“You’re gonna love it, Lex,” Bellamy grins, leading the way through the park, “it’s a delinquent tradition.”

____

“I’m not a delinquent, though.”

____

“Well, my dear,” Murphy says, grabbing her by the shoulders as he walks beside her, “that may well be changing very soon.” Lexa frowns. 

____

“What does—” 

____

“Actually, it’s not really a tradition, either—” 

____

“Yes, it is—”

____

“This is the first time in weeks that we’ve hung out like this, Bell, what kind of tradition just occurs every random number of weeks—”

____

“Murphy—”

____

“That isn’t a tradition, Bellamy, that’s anarchy. You’re an anarchist. I’m friends with an anarchist—”

____

“Murphy,” Lexa interrupts, “what did you mean by ‘that may well be changing very soon’?”

____

“Oh,” Murphy grins, “I mean that, when you ask out Clarkey over there—” he points to the girl in question sitting at a picnic table with Raven and Octavia just a little while away— “you’ll be an honorary delinquent, whether you like it or not.”

____

“I’m not asking her out.”

____

“Yes, you are.”

____

“Why would I ask her out?”

____

“Because you’re in love.”

____

“Just because I want her to talk to me again, doesn’t mean I’m in love.”

____

“Oh, on the contrary, you and Clarkey have been—”

____

“Yo, Commander!” Lexa turns away from Murphy, ignoring the rest of his sentence in favour of sending a small wave to Raven who, in contrast to the impassive acknowledgement she receives from Clarke, has sat herself upon the table and is waving with her whole body, flailing her arm like one of those inflatable tube noodles that bring people at car dealerships so much joy. “Welcome to our delinquent tradition!”

____

“Not a tradition!” Murphy yells, heading over to the field on the opposite side of the table, where Jasper and Finn were struggling to carry five soccer balls each. Lexa watches them drop the balls repeatedly as she approaches the table, a confused smile playing on her lips.

____

“Why do they have so many—”

____

“We don’t question them, Lexa,” Octavia says, “we just watch them struggle.”

____

“It’s our favourite pastime,” Raven adds, still sitting on the table, facing the field. 

____

“It’s even more fun to bet them that they can’t carry more,” Monty says from behind Lexa, flanked by Harper, Miller, and Emori, all carrying packages of hot chips, “then they argue over who gets to ‘prove their might’ first.” Lexa raises her eyebrows as they arrange the chips on the table, the boys immediately running from the field to join them in their feast. 

____

She watches as they all situate themselves on the two benches around the table, five of them each fitting on a bench, with Finn kneeling on the grass on the edge, arms crossed on the tabletop and his head poking over the top like that of a child’s. There was a method to their chaos, in the way they all know where to sit, and in how they rotate the packages so that everyone can reach each cluster, and how they chat about random musings as if Jasper arguing that Narwhals don’t exist was a normal occurrence. 

____

“Stop standing there, Lexa, and come eat,” Octavia says, smiling wide from her position between Raven and Clarke.

____

“I’m good, thanks. I, uhh, ate at the gym.”

____

“A protein bar doesn’t count as food, Woods,” Murphy mumbles through a mouthful of chips, “join us.”

____

“An honorary delinquent, remember?” Bellamy grins from the end of the bench closest to her, next to Clarke. 

____

Lexa rolls her eyes, but walks forward and kneels on the grass, earning a prolonged ‘yeaahhhh’ and excessive nodding from Finn opposite her.

____

The side of her head burns as she slowly eats, finally turning her head to lock eyes with Clarke. 

____

She doesn’t look away. She merely scrunches her eyebrows further together as she continues to eat and listen to whatever Raven was whispering in her ear. 

____

\---------------------

____

____

Lexa had found herself sitting on the swing set in the tiny playground on the edge of the field, kicking her legs idly as she watches the ‘game of soccer’ progress to Bellamy and Murphy kicking the ball back and forth between each other as Finn runs between them like an overexcited puppy. 

____

“Bellamy said that you’ve finished setting up the gym,” a voice sounds from behind her, making her jump. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

____

“Clarke,” Lexa breathes, cheeks hot, realising that she had somehow missed Clarke walking around the edge of the field to join her on the other swing, sitting and swinging her legs just as Lexa was, “no, it’s, uh… it’s fine. Just… didn’t see you. We, uh… yeah. The gym is done.”

____

Clarke hums in response, her gaze directed toward the boys now playing volleyball, with Finn laying on the ground as the net. They sit in silence for a while, Lexa desperately trying to figure out why Clarke had left the delinquents to come and join her, and why she was wearing the same frown as she had at the table earlier. 

____

_“C’mon, Woods, say something. And nothing gay like Murphy keeps insisting. But, like—"_

____

“…you okay?” Lexa’s head snaps to her right from where it was directed at the mulch at her feet.

____

“Uhh, yeah… why wouldn’t I be?”

____

“I dunno,” Clarke mumbles, releasing her grip from the chains of the swing on either side of her and placing her hands in her lap, playing with her fingers as she continues to stare at Bellamy and Murphy laying on top of Finn to comfort him and his most likely bruising genitals. “You’ve been looking sad.”

____

“Sad?”

____

“The opposite of happy, Lexa.” Lexa looks to her left to hide her small smile, disguising it as an annoyed shake of her head. 

____

“I know what sad means, princess.”

____

“Then why did you ask?”

____

“I didn’t ask.”

____

“You were all like—” she puts a lilt in her voice “— _‘sad?’_ ” 

____

“Yeah, as in, what makes you think I’ve been sad?”

____

“Well, you haven’t been happy, so—”

____

“Clarke.”

____

“What?”

____

“I’m fine.” She looks into Clarke’s disbelieving eyes, feeling her cheeks heat up once again as Clarke slowly raises a single eyebrow.

____

“No, you’re not.”

____

“Yeah, well… neither are you.”

____

“…Touché.”

____

“…So… what’s up with you?” She watches as Clarke sighs, exaggeratedly clasping her hands together and planting them firmly on her lap and turning to look at Lexa with an exasperated smile.

____

“You’ve been annoying me.”

____

“How?”

____

“Don’t play dumb, Lexa. You’re better than that.”

____

“Hey—”

____

“Why—” she pauses quickly, her throat bobbing harshly and her eyes flickering away from Lexa’s gaze, “—why have you all of a sudden gotten so… _protective_?” Lexa blinks, positive that her cheeks were an obvious shade of pink, and that her silence could be interpreted in a multitude of ways. Most of which were not pleasant. 

____

“I’m just… I’m just being a good friend.”

____

“And when did we become friends?” Lexa blinks away the hurt that shoots through her stomach, looking to distract herself with the scene of Miller carrying Monty on his shoulders and Finn carrying Jasper on his, engaged in a chicken fight in the middle of the field.

____

“I dunno. I mean, I figured that since you were comfortable enough to kiss me, that we were at least friends.”

____

“…So, we’re only friends because we kissed?”

____

“What? No, I just mean—”

____

“When did we become friends, Lexa,” she asks, her eyes boring into Lexa’s, “because I can’t pinpoint the transition from hating each other to being friends, and it’s really starting to piss me off.” Lexa stares, lips slightly parted and eyebrows furrowed at the desperation she hears in Clarke’s voice.

____

“I… I don’t know.”

____

“Of course you don’t,” Clarke mutters, rubbing aggressively at her face with her palms, “neither of us ever know anything. Which makes this ten times fucking worse.”

____

“…Maybe it just… _happened_.”

____

“ _How?_ ”

____

“I guess… sometimes that’s just how it works?” She cringes at herself while Clarke stares at her, face void of any discernible emotion.

____

“…I guess.”

____

The silence begins again, enveloping them in awkward tension. They watch as Harper takes the weeds Emori hands her and weaves them into tiny braids in Bellamy’s hair, and as Octavia and Raven compete in who can kick all the soccer balls the fastest, ignoring the importance of accuracy. 

____

“Do you think about the kisses?” Lexa turns to watch Clarke, tracing her profile and weighing her response. 

____

“…Yes.” Clarke nods, taking in a deep breath and releasing it quickly, but doesn’t say more. 

____

She suddenly frowns, sitting as straight as possible in the swing and focusing her gaze completely on what she sees in front of her.

____

Lexa, momentarily relieved that Clarke was talking to her again, turns to see what the delinquents had done to produce that reaction. 

____

She sees them all standing in a group, their backs to Clarke and herself. 

____

She sees the tension radiating from their backs, and she hears the chains of the swing next to her rattle as Clarke stands.

____

Then, she sees Cage. And Emerson. And Ontari. Smirking and acting all too proud. 

____

Lexa stands, making her way toward the group, feeling Clarke follow closely behind her. 

____

She starts walking faster when Cage gets too close to Bellamy, earning him a rough shove, though he only responds with a cackle of a laugh. 

____

Once they’re close enough, she _feels_ Clarke falter behind her, words not rolling off her back as easily as she had made out at school.

____

She walks even faster when Ontari spits at the ground at Raven’s feet, Murphy wrapping his arm around Octavia’s waist to keep her in place. 

____

And, ignoring the shouting of her name from behind her, she breaks out into a dead sprint when Finn throws the first punch, sending Emerson stumbling backwards and Cage lunging at Bellamy.

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aight, so last chapter, Clarke kinda realised her feeling but denied them big time, and now Lexa has realised hers and is not denying it nearly as well. How cute.
> 
> Also, turns out Bellamy and Murphy are to Lexa, as what Raven and Octavia are to Clarke. Wholesome.
> 
> Come chat on insta, I will get around to making those memes and writing prompts and that eventually: @the.unprofessional.writer


	25. The Dumbass Agreement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sup my homies. I wrote nothing for like two weeks and then wrote 4.5k words in not even two days. Imagine what could be accomplished if things were just... done. 
> 
> I do encourage people to quickly skim through the end of the last chapter just so some parts make sense (just the small description of the beginning of the fight).
> 
> Also a small TW for violence and blood.

“What were you kids, thinking?” Abby scolds, firmly dabbing at the cut through Finn’s left eyebrow. “You all could have ended up arrested, or in the hospital, or—”

“They started it, Mrs. Griffin,” Finn says softly, face set in a deep pout as Abby moves on to the graze on his cheek.

“Yeah, Abby,” Raven says, standing in front of Bellamy and wiping at the blood staining his chin, “they were saying some nasty shit, and we couldn’t just _let them_.” She winces when Octavia swats at her shoulder, scolding her for moving while she tries to clean the scratch on her cheek.

“I don’t care, Raven,” Abby sighs, tapping Finn on the shoulder and signalling him to get up off the ottoman, rubbing at her face when Jasper takes his place with a sheepish grin and a swollen eye, “you kids were lucky to make it out with just the injuries you did. I’ve heard enough about that… _group_. I don’t need any more reason to scold you for aggravating them. 

“They approached us, Mrs. Griffin. They were throwing around slurs and threats while we were just… _there_. We’re literally just existing, I dunno how we could be any less ‘aggravating.’” Lexa mumbles, shifting on the arm of the couch she was sitting on, eyes closed while Clarke holds her by her chin. 

Clarke clenches her jaw, trying for the hundredth time in the last hour to not cry. 

She looks around the room, fingers still delicately holding Lexa in place, and takes a deep breath to calm herself. 

She hadn’t expected the fight to turn into a brawl. She thought maybe, after Finn had punch Emerson, that Lexa would just hold Finn back… or maybe shove Emerson away and call it a day. 

She hadn’t expected Lexa to instead barrel into Cage at full speed, tackling him to the ground, and begin laying into him repeatedly, needing Bellamy to lift her off of him and throw her behind him.

She hadn’t expected Cage to get up so quickly, landing a punch so squarely to Bellamy’s mouth that his blood immediately began soaking into his shirt.

She hadn’t expected Octavia to elbow Murphy in the ribs, lunging from his grasp and breaking Ontari’s nose with a single well-aimed punch, ducking her wildly swinging arms only to punch her in the stomach after Ontari’s nails had scraped across Raven’s face. 

She hadn’t expected Jasper to pull down Emerson’s pants, laughing through the quick swing he received to his cheek and throwing his hands up in victory when Finn took the opportunity to land a few hits to his kidneys while he tried to pull his pants back up. 

She hadn’t expected Emori and Harper to each hold down one of Ontari’s arms so Raven could return the favour, though spitting on her face, not just at the ground in front of her, only for them to be quickly overpowered and each being pushed away by their throats.

She hadn’t expected Monty to grab Cage by the shoulders from behind, yanking him to the ground and flipping him over with Murphy and Miller’s help so Bellamy could quickly wipe the water from his eyes and help Lexa, who had pushed Finn back after he was hit too many times and was trying to wrangle Emerson into a hold so Octavia could land some hits. 

She hadn’t expected Jasper and Finn to pin Ontari to the ground, allowing Emori to scramble over to help keep Cage down, and for Raven to grab Harper and make sure she could breathe. 

And she really hadn’t expected the way she began sprinting when Emerson landed a rough elbow to Lexa’s ribs that sent her keeling forward, proceeding to grab her by the front of her shirt to hold her in place while he punched her twice; the first splitting her lip and the second splitting the skin on her cheek.

Nor had she expected the strength she had behind the shove she directed at Emerson.

Or the pain that radiated through her jaw from the punch he barely landed after he had jumped up from the ground.

Or how quickly Lexa was on him, cleanly lifting him off the ground and slamming him into the grass, a knee roughly place on his stomach while she punched him again and again. 

“That’s not what I meant, Lexa,” Abby sighs, softly slapping Jasper upside the head after he asked if the black eye made him ‘even more devilishly handsome’, “I just… you should have just walked away. I know—”

“You really couldn’t have expected us to ignore that, Abby,” Bellamy says, wiping at Octavia’s knuckles. “If you had heard what they were saying, you would have lost it too.”

“Well, what were they saying then?” She asks, halting her movements on Jasper’s face and looking around the silent room. 

Clarke flinches, focusing more than ever on cleaning the cut on Lexa’s cheek and doing her best to ignore the green eye watching her every move. 

The room remains silent, Clarke feeling the eyes of her friends scattered around her living room all watching her closely. She clears her throat and looks quickly at her mother who, judging by the look in her eyes as she stares back at her, had just been told by Jasper what had happened and what had been said. She shakes her head, turning her attention back to Lexa.

“They did it for me,” she mumbles, swallowing thickly. “Don’t be mad at them… they did it for me.”

The room lapses into a heavier silence, everyone tending to someone else’s injuries. Most of the wounds were bruises, predominantly to jaws, cheeks, and ribs. There were a few split lips and grazed knuckles, Bellamy’s involving the most blood but, not to Clarke’s surprise, Lexa came out of it with the most injuries. Apart from the cuts on her lip and cheek, she had managed to fracture two of her fingers, and Abby had shaken her head at the severity of her bruised ribs. 

Clarke jumps at the cold fingers that rest below her ear and at the gentle thumb wiping at the tears she hadn’t realised were rolling down her cheeks, her eyes snapping up to stare into Lexa’s concerned eyes. 

“You shouldn’t listen to what they were saying, Clarke.”

“I’m fine, Lexa.”

“You’re not. And you faltered back at the park—

“Yeah, I’m sure you could tell while you were sprinting into battle.”

“It was before I started sprinting, so—”

“Shut up, dumbass,” Clarke grumbles, rolling her eyes. “And stop moving; I’m gonna poke you in the eye.”

“Like you haven’t dreamt of doing that a few times.”

“Well, it’s not gonna be fun if you’re not gonna be mad.”

“I’m always here to ruin your dreams, princess.”

“Oh yeah,” Clarke hums, a small smile playing on her lips, “my hero.”

“Okay,” Jake says, earning the attention of the delinquents as he strides into the room, “the police are going to do shit all.”

“We could have told you that, Mr. Griffin,” Murphy says from the floor, eye closed with his head in Emori’s lap. 

“Well, it’s bullshit.”

“Jake—”

“I know, Abs, I know.” He sighs, running his hand through his hair. “How did you guys even get out of there?”

“We were able to run,” Miller says, wiping at a graze on his arm.

“Yeah, Lexa, Bellamy, and Octavia gave us a few seconds to bolt,” Harper nods from beside him. 

Clarke watches as Jake sends approving nods around the group, smiling softly at them all.

“Thank you all for… for sticking together.”

“We got this, Mr. Griffin,” Finn beams, effectively re-opening the cut on his eyebrow with his enthusiasm.

“Goddamn it, Finn,” Abby snaps, “that’s the fourth time.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Griffin.”

“I swear, child, one more time, and I will just staple it together.”

\------------------

The delinquents had stayed for a while, much to Abby’s concern for Finn’s eyebrow. Clarke had retreated to the kitchen, preparing her famous brownies in silence. Every once in a while, one of her friends would appear and ask her how she was, to which she always replied with the same “I’m okay. Thank you for what you did. I’ll be fine, I promise”.

Her parents had done the same, telling her that they heard what was said and that she shouldn’t listen to people who don’t even know her. Again, she would insist that she was fine, accept the hugs they gave her, and would go back to waiting for the brownies to be done in silence. 

There was a soft cheer when she appeared with the tray of brownies, handing them out and sitting with everyone as they ate. 

They were quick to leave after that, with Abby insisting that everyone needed to get home and rest, and that their parents would be worried if they stayed there any longer. So, everyone filed out, each sending their thanks to Abby and Jake, and each making sure that Clarke knew that they were there for her. 

Lexa was the last to leave, awkwardly standing in the living room as she accepted the praise from Jake for ‘protecting his daughter’ and the fond scolding from Abby for ‘putting herself in so much danger’. 

“C’mon,” Clarke whispered, gently grabbing Lexa by her forearm, “I’ll walk you home.”

“You don’t have to do that, Clarke, it’s just across the—”

“I’m trying to show my gratitude here, Lexa.”

“Oh,” Lexa nods, following Clarke out the door with a final ‘goodnight’ to Jake and Abby. They walk across the street in silence, both awkwardly stopping on the porch in front of Lexa’s door. 

So, uhm,” Clarke begins, folding her arms across her chest, “…thank you.”

“For what?”

“Seriously, Lexa?”

“…Yes? What did I do?” Clarke stares at Lexa who, by the creases between her eyebrows and the soft pout of her lips, completely meant what she was asking.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Well, I knew that, but—”

“For literally sprinting shoulder first into a fight, Lexa.”

“Oh… well, what else would I have done?”

“I dunno,” Clarke sighs, tilting her head back to look at the dull porch light above them, “actually be smart and _not_ fracture two of your fingers by punching people repeatedly in the face?”

“Well, where’s the fun in that?” Clarke releases a soft chuckle, looking quickly down at her feet before meeting Lexa’s cautious eyes.

“Why did you do it, Lexa?”

“Why wouldn’t have I?”

“Can you just answer the question, smartass,” Clarke smiles, reaching out to stop Lexa from smiling too in case the movement reopens her lip, pushing the side of her mouth inwards. 

“Seriously, though,” Lexa smiles, ignoring the hand on her face, “why wouldn’t have I done _something_ to shut them up?” Clarke’s hand drops, and so does Lexa’s smile. Clarke traces Lexa’s face, admiring the strong set of her jaw and the intensity that those eyes always seem to hold.

“Because we aren’t really friends, right?” Clarke swallows thickly at the look of hurt that flashes in Lexa’s eyes, then frowns at the devious smirk that quickly replaces it.

“You seem to keep forgetting that we _have kissed_. Therefore, just as a technicality, we have to be at least kinda friends.”

“Oh,” Clarke laughs, “do we now?”

“Yes,” Lexa nods firmly, her eyes no longer guarded by the devious glint. “Sorry, not much I can do about it.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Clarke hums, folding her arms across her chest once again. “And what else does that mean?”

“It means you have you talk to me again.” Clarke blinks, eyes rapidly searching Lexa’s face for anything other than the vulnerability and… _desperation_ that she sees flooding her eyes. She nods, head tilting to the side at the soft breath Lexa releases. 

“Are you going to stop protecting me like you have been?”

“…Probably not.”

“I thought so,” Clarke says, wistful in the way her eyes repeatedly scan Lexa’s face.

“What, you’re just going to accept that?”

“…Yeah.”

“…Why?” Clarke chuckles.

“Because Raven told me I’m a dumbass for not at least _appreciating_ the sentiment… and the free security.”

“Security is usually pretty expensive.”

“So I’ve been told.” They lapse into silence again, each tracing the face of the other. Clarke watches as Lexa’s eyebrows knit tightly together, her lips pursed in thought. 

Slowly, her hand reaches up to grab Clarke by the chin, tilting her head to the side and frowning at the purple bruise that was blooming across her jaw.

“You took the hit pretty well.”

“Well, it wasn’t like it was a full hit. I don’t know how you took two to the face and didn’t just… pass out or something.” Lexa just hums in response, her fingers still keeping Clarke’s head in place. She releases her grip after a few more seconds, her eyes darting across Clarke’s jaw.

“I could teach you how to fight.”

“What?”

“So you can protect yourself.”

“And here I was thinking that was your job.” Clarke tries to stifle her smile at the soft blush that erupts across Lexa’s cheeks and at the soft giggle that she had never heard before.

“Yes, but it’s exhausting work,” she smiles, “and it’s… it’s better to be safe than sorry.” Clarke watches her for a moment as she thinks, raising her eyebrows at the increasingly worried expression on Lexa’s face.

“Do you promise to stop being such a dumbass?”

“Pfft, no.” Clarke releases a loud laugh, nodding her head and reaching her arm out to gently slap Lexa’s uninjured cheek.

“Fine.” She turns away from Lexa’s dopey grin, walking down the driveway and back towards her house. “I’ll see you later, Lex,” she calls over her shoulder.

She misses the proud little nod of the girl still standing under the dull porch light. 

\----------------------

“Did you take care of these cuts _at all_ yesterday?” Clarke scolds, holding Lexa’s chin once again as she scans her face in homeroom on Monday morning. 

“What do you mean? They’re clean, aren’t they?”

“There’s more to it than that, Lex,” Clarke says, opening her backpack and retrieving a small first aid kit.

“Do I look like I know how to take care of myself?”

“Physically? Yes. Any other way that involves your health? No.” Lexa releases a light scoff, a tiny smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. 

“Whatever. Since when do you always have a first aid kit at hand?” She winces when Clarke pulls her face to the side and begins cleaning the cut on her cheek.

“Since your dumbass always seems to be injured.”

“Hey, I’m just being your loyal security guard.”

“Well you better bloody stop, there is only so many of these I can get at the store before the employees start thinking I’m dangerous.”

“Please, you couldn’t even break someone’s nose.”

“I could too!”

“That isn’t something I would insist I could do, princess,” Lexa laughs.

“Yeah, well, shut up. And stop friggin’ moving—”

“Heya Clarkey,” Finn says with a wide smile as he takes his seat. “Lexa. How do ye both fair this fine morning?” Clarke stares at him for a long moment, looking to Lexa for confirmation that he did indeed say that.

“Uh, morning Finn.”

“We be fairing fairly, thank you Finn,” Lexa says, putting on a poor British accent, to Finn’s delight. Clarke just shakes her head, turning away from Lexa and back to Finn.

“Did you look after your cuts, or do I have to clean them for you, too?” After the sheepish grin she receives Clarke sighs, shuffling her chair closer to Finn’s and grabbing a new alcohol wipe to clean his eyebrow. “You both need to learn how to look after yourselves.”

“But that’s what you’re here for, Clarkey.”

“Sure,” Clarke chuckles, “now stop moving.”

Clarke finishes cleaning Finn’s injuries in silence, moving back to her table once she was done to see Lexa working through their maths booklet.

“Excuse you,” she says, pulling out her own booklet, “what do you think you’re doing?”

“Maths,” Lexa says, flicking her eyes quickly to Clarke before returning her attention to the question she was doing. “I figured that if we also do a few questions in homeroom, we’ll be done way ahead of schedule.”

“I thought we were already ahead of schedule?”

“Yeah, but this way we’ll be even _more_ ahead of schedule.” Clarke traces Lexa’s profile as she smiles softly at the booklet, completely enveloped in barely contained glee at the idea of beating her own schedule.

“You’re a nerd.”

“Yes, shut up. Do some maths.” Clarke chuckles softly and does as told, poking Lexa whenever she needed help which, to her delight, was less frequently than when they had first started. 

They continue in silence, barely listening to Ms. Vie when she makes her announcements at the front of the room and ignoring entirely the scattered whispers directed at them and their bruised faces. 

When the bell rang, Clarke tries her best to stifle her giggle at the childlike smile on Lexa’s face, from what she assumes is still the idea of finishing their assignment ahead of schedule. 

“What?” Lexa asks, tilting her head to the side as she carefully places the booklet in her bag.

“Nothing,” Clarke hums, following Lexa out of the room and into the hallway. She frowns at her wondering thoughts, focused on the endearing qualities that Lexa all of a sudden possesses. “Were you serious about teaching me to fight?”

“Ohh, yeah!” Lexa turns to Clarke quickly, an excitement that Clarke had never seen shining in her eyes. “Are you free this afternoon? We can head straight to the gym and then do some more maths.” Clarke, somewhat confused by her own enthusiasm in her response, nods, smiling at the sure nod she receives in return and at the little hop in Lexa’s step as she walks away down the hall.

_“What the heck is happening?”_

\---------------------

“Clarke, you have to keep your hands up.”

“But they’re tired, Lexa.”

“Doesn’t matter, you _have_ to keep them up.”

“Whyyyyy—”

“Why the fuck do you think, princess,” Lexa laughs as she quickly swats away Clarke’s limp hands and lightly slaps her on her uninjured cheek.

“Lexaaa,” Clarke whines, cupping her own face in her hands and stepping away from Lexa, “how long have we been doing this?” Lexa shakes her head again, looking quickly at the clock up on the wall in the basement of her gym.

“Like, seven minutes.”

“Nooooooo,” Clarke pouts, dropping dramatically to the floor of the boxing ring they stood in, hiding her face in her hands and ignoring the light kicks she feels at her calf.

“Clarke.”

“No.”

_“Clarke.”_

_“No.”_

“Alright, fine. Looks like you really _couldn’t_ ever break someone’s nose.” Clarke, in all her spiteful glory, shoots upright and glares up at a smirking Lexa.

“Why do you do this?”

“Because it’s fun,” Lexa says, bending down so that she is almost eye level with Clarke, “and also because you really need to keep your hands up.” She finishes her sentence with another playful slap to Clarke’s cheek, jumping upright again and beckoning Clarke to join her. “C’mon. We’ll only do this for twenty more minutes.”

“You’re the worst,” Clarke mumbles, slowly getting to her feet and putting her hands up in front of her face.

“And yet here you are. In my basement.”

“Don’t’ make it creepy.”

“It’s a nice basement, it can’t be creepy.”

“I beg to differ.”

\----------------------

“Can you tell me why you haven’t put your shirt back on yet?” Lexa looks up from the maths booklet, still in just boxing shorts and a sports bra.

“Because this is my gym and I can do what I want.”

“But it’s getting cold, Lexa. I thought you had to keep your muscles warm after a workout.”

“That wasn’t really a workout, Clarke.” Clarke watches as she laughs, shying away slightly from the glare Clarke sends her.

“My ass is slippery from the sweat dripping down my back. What do you mean that wasn’t a workout?”

“Well, it wasn’t for me.”

“And what is _that_ supposed to mean?!”

“…that you need to work out more?”

“Excuse me, I am as fit as a fiddle.”

“Okay. Put your hands up for me.” Clarke, wildly unimpressed, glares at Lexa from her position on the floor. After Lexa had somehow gotten Clarke to keep her hands up for another twenty minutes, Clarke had laid face down on the floor in the ring and refused to get up. So, Lexa brought the maths to her, sitting with her on the floor and poking her to make sure she doesn’t just fall asleep.

“You’re the worst.”

“You’ll thank me when you can keep your hands up during a fight.”

“When will I ever even be in a fight, Lexa?” She squints her eyes as soon as she says it, her eyes finding Lexa’s raised eyebrows and disproving frown. “I revoke my statement.”

“Mhmm,” Lexa hums, returning her attention back to the assignment. They work in silence for about thirty minutes before Clarke rolls onto her back, sighing heavily and staring up at the ceiling. “What?”

“What?”

“What’s the sigh for?”

“Maths.”

“We’re almost done for today, I promise.”

“What’s with you and always making me actually work.”

“I’m pretty sure I was supposed to hear a _‘thank you’_ in there, but I must have missed it.”

“Oh, shut up,” Clarke laughs, tilting her head to watch Lexa scribble out the answer to another question. “How’d you get that scar?”

“Which one?”

“The one on your ribs.”

“Surgery.”

“For what?”

“For being in a deadly car accident.”

“Oh,” Clarke says, embarrassment colouring her cheeks, “right. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Lexa says, closing the booklet and mirroring Clarke, falling backwards so she’s laying down a mere meter away from her. “What can you do.”

“…You never told me what happened.”

“I did. Drunk driver at 5:30 in the afternoon. On our way to pick up Aden from day care.”

“I meant… never mind.” They fall into a heavy silence, Clarke staring up at the ceiling and desperately trying to find something to say to ease the tension.

“Both of my parents had head injuries.” Clarke turns her head to Lexa, watching her as she continues to stare up at nothing. “They seemed fine. My window shattered, and a huge piece of glass was lodged in my ribs. They were just… trying to keep me calm.”

“Lexa…”

“I don’t remember much of it. I just remember waking up in a hospital bed and feeling numb. And then a doctor came in and told me that my parents didn’t make it and… I still felt numb.” Clarke, still watching the clenched jaw of the girl next to her, wiggles closer until their arms were almost touching. “They asked me some questions, and then I just… slept.”

“Lexa, I’m so sorry.” She didn’t expect Lexa to scoff out a bitter laugh, turning to face her with sad green eyes.

“It wasn’t your fault.” She turns to face the ceiling once again, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I was put in the system… and so was Aden. We were together at first, which was nice but… but then he was adopted.” She pauses, swallowing thickly. Clarke reaches out her hand, letting it fall onto Lexa’s wrist. 

“I didn’t know about the adoption until they had already taken him. They thought I might’ve made a scene and ruined his ‘opportunity’.”

“Which you definitely would’ve,” Clarke says softly, smiling gently at the short chuckle she receives.

“Yeah, absolutely. They told me we weren’t _‘family enough’_ to be adopted together… and I guess they didn’t tell his new parents that we were together. I dunno if they would’ve adopted me too, but I’d like to think they would’ve. I like to think they were good people.”

“…So what happened to you?” She watches Lexa sigh, a small smile lighting her eyes.

“Lincoln’s mother adopted me,” she says, turning again to face Clarke. “Lincoln and I were friends at school, and apparently he was concerned that I hadn’t been there for a few months. His mother is a lawyer, so she found out pretty quick and didn’t even think twice about it.”

“You guys really are family then, huh?”

“Yeah,” Lexa chuckles, sitting upright, “he’s the annoying big brother I never wanted, but am forever grateful I got.”

“Is he how you met Anya?”

“Pfft, no,” Lexa smile, shaking her head, “that’s a whole other story.”

“And you’re not gonna tell me?”

“Nope,” Lexa says, getting to her feet and holding a hand out to help Clarke up. “C’mon, I wanna go home and shower.” Clarke chuckles and accepts the hand, gathering her things and following Lexa up the stairs to the main floor of the gym.

“Do you ever wonder about Aden?”

“…Every day,” Lexa says, a sad smile pulling at her lips. “Lincoln, his mother, and Anya are all trying to help me find him but… there is only so much a group of kids can do. And apparently also only so much a wealthy lawyer can do, too.” Clarke follows Lexa outside, watching as the occasional car drives past as she waits for Lexa to lock up the gym. 

“I could help, too,” she says, chewing on her lip when Lexa freezes and stares at her with wide, confused eyes. 

“…Why?”

“…Because I’m nice?”

“Pfft—”

“Stop doing that!” Clarke laughs, slapping Lexa’s arm as they walk towards her bike. “I’m serious, my parents know a lot of people, maybe they’ll be able to help.”

“Well, that isn’t really _you_ helping now, is it?”

“Shut up and accept my offer, dumbass.” Lexa releases a low chuckle and gets on her bike, handing Clarke her helmet.

“Fine… thank you.”

“No problem.” Clarke gets on the bike behind Lexa, putting on the helmet and wrapping her arms around Lexa’s bare stomach. “You’re freezing.”

“I’m too proud to admit you were right.”

“You’re a dumbass.”

“And yet here you are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here you guys thought I forgot about Aden. How could I ever. 
> 
> Come chat on insta, I almost started posting things again: @the.unprofessional.writer


	26. A Nice Little Secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a hot minute but here I am with 5k words as a peace offering for my absence. Mental health has kinda turned to shit and doing anything has been a struggle, but we got there in the end. 
> 
> I would like to thank you all once again for the continued support. I read all your comments (I promise) and they bring me endless joy. Hearing you guys express such fondness of this story means the world, and your encouragement to keep going is priceless. Thank you.
> 
> I hope ya'll enjoy these gay disasters make progress. There are more time jumps (usually just a week or so) so if things appear like they happen quickly... they're still going slow for a pair of useless wlw. 
> 
> Cheers and much love.

“Can you maybe not be an ass while I’m trying to do things?”

“What on Earth are you talking about, Clarke?”

“Like, stop whacking me with those things while I’m trying to hit them.”

“Clarke,” Lexa says, lowering the inflatable sticks she’s been using to train Clarke with her punches, “that’s literally the whole point of this.”

“Yes,” Clarke says, wrapped hands on her hips, “I’m aware. Now stop it.”

“This is how we train, Clarke. How are we supposed to train when—”

“Lexa.”

“What?”

“I know this is only our second session doing… _this_ , but you should know me well enough by now to know what I’m saying.” Lexa stares at her, eyebrows furrowed and sticks hanging loosely by her side.

“Ohhh,” she says, tilting her head backwards and nodding slowly, “you wanna stop altogether.”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you just say that?”

“When do I ever say things properly, Lex?” She turns and walks to the edge of the boxing ring, dropping herself on the floor next to her bag and begins unwrapping her hands. 

Lexa doesn’t move, instead choosing to watch as Clarke flexes her hands a few times and pouts at the ache in her knuckles.

“Are my hands supposed to hurt after hitting soft inflatable sticks?”

“No, but then again, this is you we’re talking about.”

“Shut up.” Clarke’s pout deepens and she swivels on her butt so her back is completely to Lexa. “I didn’t come here to be attacked.”

“You barely came here at all,” Lexa says, walking over to join Clarke. “If I hadn’t have knocked on your door this morning, you never would have showed up here.”

“Excuse you,” Clarke says indignantly, turning to face Lexa once she sat down next to her, “I absolutely would have.”

“Pfft, really?”

“Yes!”

“You would have willingly woken up at 7am on a Saturday?”

“Yes.”

“To box?”

“Yes.”

“With me?”

“Yes, you and your creepy basement.”

“It’s not creepy.”

“Yes it—”

“So you’re saying that if someone was holding a plate of glorious pancakes—the LAST pancakes on all of Earth—over a cliff and you had to _choose_ between pancakes or boxing, you would still say with utmost certainty that you would have willingly set an alarm for 7am on a Saturday to learn how to box with me?” Lexa watches in victorious amusement as the confidence vanishes from Clarke’s face, quickly being replaced with one of concern.

“…the last plate of pancakes?”

“Yes.”

“…In the whole world?”

“Yes.”

“If I chose boxing, would I have the option of pancakes the next day?”

“Hmm, maybe in like a week.”

“So only _one_ serve of pancakes a week, or boxing?”

“Sure.” Lexa watches while Clarke thinks, holding eye contact as the gears turn in her head. After a disturbing amount of time, a familiar stubbornness appears in Clarke’s eyes.

“Yes, I fucking would’ve.” Lexa’s eyes widen and she leans back away from Clarke.

“…Seriously.”

“Yup,” Clarke nods surely, standing and extending a hand down to Lexa, “and now I really want to leave because who the _fuck_ wakes up at 7am on a Saturday to _box_ in a _basement_.”

“It’s a nice basement, though,” Lexa says, accepting the hand and rising to her feet. “You’re still gonna come this afternoon, right?” Lexa mentally cringes at the vulnerability she hears in her own voice with the question.

“Yes, Lex,” Clarke says, a soft smile gracing her lips, “me and all the delinquents will be here to watch sweaty people be sweaty.” Lexa releases a breath she didn’t realise she was holding, nodding softly to herself at the confirmation.

Though she tried, she was sure that Clarke could tell she was a nervous wreck about the official opening of her gym today. She hadn’t slept last night, instead opting to play through all the possible outcomes of the day, and through all the ways that people could just be plain shitty. 

“Well, I do expect you all to _actually_ work out. After all, that’s what today is… getting people to work out for free so that they’ll, like, pay. Later. For a membership. To my gym. And—”

“Lex,” Clarke giggles, placing a hand on her shoulder, “we will be here. We will exercise. We will make it look like so much fun. It will be great.” Lexa releases a giant breath, nodding to herself once again and giving Clarke a weak smile.

“Okay. Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not like I could even keep Octavia or Raven away if I tried.” Lexa hums in agreement, gathering her things and following Clarke out of the ring and up the stairs. “When are they supposed to be arriving, anyway?”

“I dunno,” Lexa says, scanning the main floor of the gym for anything out of place before heading out the door where Clarke waits, “knowing those two, they’ll probably show up two minutes beforehand.”

“Well, it’s still great of them to show up.”

“I mean,” Lexa releases a short laugh, handing her bike helmet to Clarke and swinging her leg over the motorcycle, “it’s not like Polis is really _that_ far away. People literally travel that long just to get to work in the morning.”

“Hmm,” Clarke hums, taking the helmet and moving to sit behind Lexa, “you’re right. Your friends are terrible.”

“I know, right? Thank you for agreeing with me.”

“Yeah, it’s not like one of them is literally your brother and the other is… I dunno what she is, but she would kick anyone’s ass for you, so—”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. They should still visit more.”

“Well, why don’t you visit them?” Lexa starts the bike and pauses, turning to stare at her reflection in the helmet behind her.

“…I’m sorry, I didn’t quite hear that.”

“I asked why you don’t—” And Lexa takes off, the revving of the engine drowning out the rest of Clarke’s sentence, but not the sound of her laughter. 

\--------------------

“Lex, you need to calm down.”

“That’s easier said than done, Anya.”

“Lexa,” Anya says, reaching her hand behind her to swat at Lexa’s knee, “it’s going to be fine. You’ll have us and all the delinquents there and—”

“And Clarke.”

“—yes, and Clarke,” Anya sends a quick nod to Lincoln, “and we will all be supporting you and kicking anyone’s ass that is rude. Okay?”

“I know,” Lexa sighs, leaning her head against the headrest in the back seat of Anya’s Lexus, “but still.”

“’But still’ nothing, you’ll be fine.”

“It’s a nice gym, Lex,” Lincoln says, kind eyes turning to send Lexa a reassuring nod, “and you’re likeable.”

“Not in this town I’m not,” she mumbles.

“Are people still giving you trouble?”

“Not really,” Lexa gulps as they turn onto the main road leading to her gym, “not since that fight. People tend to steer clear now.”

“Well that’s good, isn’t it?”

“Well yeah, but it’s still… tense.”

“And how about you and Clarke,” Anya says through a smirk, locking eyes with Lexa in the rear-view mirror and wiggling her eyebrows, “how are you guys trotting along?”

“Who says ‘trotting along’ anym—”

“Just answer the question, Lexa.”

“…We’re fine.”

“Define ‘fine’.”

“…Good.”

“Lexa, I swear—”

“Nothing’s happened, Anya,” Lexa says, a faint blush creeping up her neck. “We’ve been working on the assignment.”

“And that’s almost done, right?”

“Yeah, it’s due on Friday. We only have a few questions to go.”

“And how about Aden?” Lincoln asks, turning once again to look at Lexa. “How’s that going?” Lexa releases a loud sigh and runs a hand over her face, groaning lightly when she realises that they have also arrived at the gym.

“She’s told her parents and they said they’ll do everything they can, so now all we can really do is wait.” She opens the door and steps onto the sidewalk, waiting for Lincoln and Anya to join her. “Clarke’s been insistent on researching the laws in Polis. I think she’s trying to find a loophole or something.”

“Is that why you guys facetimed my mom?” Lincoln says, trying to suppress a smile.

“Yeah,” Lexa says as she unlocks the gym and steps inside, propping the door open with a weight before heading behind the counter, “she wanted to get all the information she could.”

“Wait, you got Clarke to meet Lyra?”

“Yeah, she wanted to talk to a lawyer about the—”

“No no,” Anya says, stepping to stand directly in front of Lexa, “Clarke _met_ Lyra?”

“…Yes?”

“Was it glorious?”

“What do you mea—”

“It was,” Lincoln interrupt, a smug smile on his face.

“What are you guys—” she was interrupted again, this time by Anya’s bizarre squeal of excitement.

“Naww, our little Lexi took her girlfriend to meet her family!”

“I didn’t _take_ her anywhere, we were just—”

“So you admit that she _is_ your girlfriend then?”

“What? No, of course not, she was just—”

“How did Lyra respond to Lexa with a pretty girl?” Anya turns to Lincoln, ignoring Lexa’s stammering.

“She called me all excited and then scolded me for not telling her about it.”

“Good ol’ Lyra.”

“Who’s Lyra?” Lexa throws her head back in distress when she sees Raven walk through the door, followed by the stampede of chaos that is the delinquents. 

“My mother,” Lincoln says, accepting a shy hug from Octavia and an overly firm handshake from Bellamy.

“And Lexa’s,” Anya says, raising her eyebrows at the little skip Raven did to place herself next to her.

“You have a mother?” Raven asks, leaning around Anya to squint at Lexa.

“What, Clarke didn’t tell you?”

“Clarke hasn’t really been telling us all that many details,” Octavia says with a pout, “just that the assignment is almost done, you guys are getting along, and that you’re kicking her ass with those inflatable sticks.”

“Is that a euphemism?”

“No,” Lexa quickly says to Anya as she rubs at the back of her neck, “I’ve just been… training her to, uhh… to fight.” Lexa braces herself for the onslaught of gentle bullying that Anya’s silence was sure to bring, cringing away from the huge smile that slowly spreads across Anya’s face.

“You’re training her to fight?” 

“Yes.”

“Here?”

“Yes.”

“In _your_ gym?”

“I believe that is where we currently are, yes.”

“ _Alone_?”

“Yes, Anya.” Lexa shoots a glare at a silently chuckling Murphy.

“And she comes here _willingly_?”

“Now that part is a shock to us all,” Murphy says with a grin.

“Yeah,” Bellamy nods, ushering Octavia to go play with the rest of the delinquents on the machines and clenching his jaw quickly when Lincoln follows her, “considering it means she has to get up at 7am on a Saturday.”

“I don’t think we even saw her any day before 3pm during Summer.”

“If not for school, she would probably be nocturnal.”

“Like that aye-aye lemur thing.”

“Oh, that shit’s terrifying—”

“Wait, so let me get this perfectly clear,” Anya says, speaking over Murphy and Bellamy’s increasingly dramatic conversation, “you have been training Clarke how to fight, in your boxing gym, on Saturday mornings?” Lexa, eyes wide and jaw comically clenched, flicks her eyes quickly to glare at Raven who was hiding like a child behind Anya’s shoulder.

“…Yes.”

“And she is doing this of her own free will?”

“Why would I _force_ someone to let me train them? For _free_?”

“Because you have heart eyes for our Clarkey, Woods,” Murphy whispers, dodging Lexa’s backhanded whack at his stomach and running over to spot Emori at the bench press.

“Whatever,” she mutters, the tips of her ears burning a bright red. “Where is Clarke, anyway?”

“She saw a blade of grass she liked,” Raven says, making herself comfortable in Lexa’s chair behind the counter.

“…What?”

“She does this thing when she’s painting—”

“Yeah!” Raven interrupts Bellamy, propping her feet upon the counter. “When she can’t mix together the perfect colour, she tries to find it out in the wild—”

“And that sometimes means that she is missing for a while.”

“Or it just makes her look batshit crazy. Like that time she tried to bottle smoke?”

“To be fair, that did work.”

“I don’t care how genius it was, Bell. She looked like a monkey that had just had its banana stolen by a smoke monster.”

“That was one time, and I fucking nailed that painting,” Clarke says, suddenly appearing at the door, numerous blades of grass gripped tightly in her fingertips. 

“Wait, you were actually out there _picking grass_?” Anya asks, only successfully stifling her laughter after locking eyes briefly with Lexa.

“Yes,” Clarke says, turning to Lexa, “do you have somewhere I can keep my grass?”

“Uhhhhh,” Lexa looks around, eyes landing on a small container of pins that was sitting on the counter, opening it, tipping out the pins, and handing the container to Clarke, “will this work?”

“Yes!” She says, giddy in her excitement. Lexa watches softly as Clarke swings her backpack off her shoulders and pulls out her water bottle, grabbing the container from Lexa’s outstretched hand, filling it with water, placing the blades of grass inside, and closing the lid firmly. She stands, content smile colouring her features, and holds the container out to Lexa. “Keep these safe please.”

“Uhh… sure,” she nods, turning and putting the container in one of the draws behind the counter. When she turns back, she sees Clarke skipping over to join the rest of the delinquents make a mess of her gym.

“What’s wrong with your face?” Anya asks.

“Yeah, it’s all… soft.” Lexa glares between Anya and Raven, unsure of what to say or what to do. “Are you having a gay moment?”

“She’s totally having a gay moment.”

“Is it Clarke’s butt?”

“Nah, she’s too gay for it to be her butt. It’s, like, her hair, or something.”

“Lexa,” Raven says with pseudo seriousness, “are you gay for Clarke’s hair?”

“I fucking hate you both,” Lexa mutters, quickly replacing her scowl with a friendly smile as a potential client walks through the door.

\---------------------

“Well, I dunno about you,” Anya says, slapping her hand onto Lexa’s thigh, “but I’d call that a successful afternoon.”

“I hate you.”

“An afternoon to remember.”

“You’re the fucking worst.”

“A legendary day within the dull turning of time.”

“Fuck you.”

“Magical, it was.”

“It was actually successful, why are you so mad?” Lincoln laughs at the deep scowl Lexa wears.

“Because you both _suck_.”

“What did I do?!” Lincoln laughs, the three of them sitting on the floor in Lexa’s lounge room with drinks in their hands and legs sprawled out in front of them.

“You did _nothing_ ,” Lexa says, pausing to take a sip of her beer, “which allowed Anya to be a _bitch_.”

“Excuse you,” Anya says, digging her fingers into Lexa’s thigh and causing her to flinch away, “I was delightful.”

“What were you saying to Clarke, then? Hmm?” Lexa says, eyebrows reaching for her hairline as she rocks her feet side to side.

“Only good things, I assure you.”

“The giggling wasn’t reassuring, Ahn.”

“It’s not my fault that every good thing about you is also laughable.”

“HEY—” Lincoln laughs across from the girls as Lexa lunges to her left, tackling Anya and pushing her into the carpet.

“No! You’ll spill my beer!”

“Take it back.”

“One mustn’t lie, Lexa. Harry Potter taught us that.”

“Technically that was Umbridge—”

“WE DO NOT SPEAK HER NAME—”

“ANYA—"

“Wait,” Lincoln says as he makes no move to interfere with the weird wrestle that was happening before him, “what _were_ you saying to Clarke? I didn’t see that.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Anya laughs, pushing at Lexa’s face and sending her toppling over to her right, “you were too busy talking to Octavia.”

“And to Bellamy,” Lexa says through a pout.

“Ohh, did he threaten to cut your balls off?”

“No, nothing like that,” Lincoln says, his cheeks a faint pink.

“You sure? I don’t think I’ve ever seen Bell that serious.” Lexa watches as Lincoln pauses and stares at the carpet.

“…It may have been something like that. Anyway,” he shakes his head, returning his gaze to Anya, “what were you saying to Clarke?”

“Oh, just the usual stuff.”

“What does that _mean_?” Lexa says, crossing her legs and pivoting to face Anya.

“You know, the whole _‘I’ll kick your ass if you hurt her’_ spiel.” She pauses to take along sip of her beer. “…And also to make a move because I made a bet with one of my friends that she would do it before you.”

“You bet against me?”

“That’s all you took from that, Lex?” Lincoln asks through a broad grin before turning towards Anya. “How did she react?”

“Oh, she turned as red as a baboon’s butt and then told me a nice little secret.”

“What secret?” Lexa and Lincoln ask at once.

“Do you guys not understand the definition of a secret?”

“But it’s us,” Lincoln says.

“And it’s about _me_ ,” Lexa frowns, leaning forward to rest her elbow on her knee and her chin on her fist. 

“Too bad,” Anya says, smiling into her drink, “and why did you never tell me that Clarke was an artist?”

“I’ve never seen any of her stuff and she didn’t even seem like she was _that_ into it until recently.”

“What do you mean?”

“I dunno, she’s started showing up to school covered in paint. I don’t even know how a person can get _that_ much paint on themselves, it’s weird.”

“And that’s all you know about her art?”

“Well, yeah,” Lexa says, eyebrows furrowed in thought, “and that she might be into painting trees.”

“Trees?”

“Yeah, it’s mostly green paint. So… trees.”

“That would explain that whole grass thing,” Lincoln offers.

“Have you thought about _asking_ about her art?”

“Yes, Anya, I have _asked_. She just kinda brushes it off and tells me she’ll show me later.”

“Maybe you should push harder to see it.”

“Or, I dunno, I could not be a cunt and actually respect her boundaries and let her have her secrets?”

“Oh, burn,” Lincoln whispers, accepting the pillow thrown harshly at his face and laughing at the soft _‘oh no, my rug’_ , when he spills his beer.

\---------------------------

“Clarke, I’m going to have to ask you to calm down.”

“Lexa,” Clarke says with a face as serious as Lexa had ever seen, “the assignment is done. We are free. No more maths… How can you _not_ be excited?”

“You know that we have to start studying for exams real soon, right? And we have maths on Monday.”

“But it’s the weekend! Two whole days maths free!!” Lexa watches with a soft smile as Clarke does a small twirl in the middle of the crowded hallway as they leave the classroom and head to their next respective classes.

“Don’t you have that English essay to finish? And also start?”

“Well—”

“And those history essays?”

“Yes, but—”

“And that—”

“LEXA!” Clarke stops in front of her, grabbing her by her shoulders and giving her a soft shake. “No more maths,” she whispers, “for two days. I fucking hate maths.”

“I know,” Lexa whispers back, watching the way Clarke’s eyes dart across her face, “but there is still so much to do.”

“Don’t ruin my fun.”

“I would never,” Lexa says, walking forward and breaking their whisper cycle. They walk in silence for a while, arms brushing as they make their way through the hallways, slowing down as they reach Lexa’s class. “Where’s your next class?”

“Down there,” Clarke says, pointing down the hallway. 

“Okay, I’ll see you later.” She turns to enter the classroom but is stopped by a gentle hand on her bicep.

“You wanna come over tonight?” Clarke asks quickly. “Raven, Octavia and I have a bit of a Friday night tradition with food and movies and shitty gossip and you’re more than welcome to join.” Lexa stares blankly, tracing the rigid features of the girl in front of her.

“…Sure.”

“Really?”

“Yes? Was it supposed to be a trick question or—”

“No! No no, I just, uh… didn’t think you’d actually say yes.”

“…Did you want me to say no?”

“Why would I ask if I wanted you to say no?”

“I dunno, to be polite?”

“Am I really _that_ polite though?”

“Good point. What time?”

“Oh, uh… whenever, really. Usually Octavia and Raven come over straight from school, but we were gonna be all responsible and work on all those other precious assignments you keep mentioning…”

“So… when?”

“Uhm,” Lexa watches with a raised eyebrow as Clarke frowns at her feet, deep in thought. “Five.”

“Five?”

“Five.” Clarke gives a sure nod. “I will see you at five. We will have all the food ready. Don’t be late.” And then she was walking away, leaving Lexa to watch as she hurries down the hallway and ducks quickly into her next class.

_“Okay. Five.”_

\-------------------------

“Lexa! So good to see you again.”

“Hi Jake, thanks for having me.”

“You say that like we have much of a choice,” Jake chuckles, calling up the stairs to Clarke before turning back to Lexa. “Clarke doesn’t really _ask_ to have people over on Friday nights. It's her little tradition.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I—”

“Lexa, please,” he says with a warm smile, “it’s no hassle. Not even in the slightest.” His smile fades and slowly turns into an exhausted frown. “Also… we’re doing everything we can to find Aden.”

“I know. I really appreciate the help.”

“It’s no problem, Lexa, we’ll keep trying until we find him. Abby has been on the phone for a while now to a few people… I dunno how much headway she’s making, but it doesn’t seem like a dead end just yet.” Lexa nods, a grateful smile pulling at her lips. Before she gets the chance to thank Jake again, a head of blonde hair appears at the top of the stairs.

“Lexa!” 

“Clarke.”

“C’mon, you’re late.”

“It’s 5:03, Clarke.” Lexa hears Jake chuckle beside her.

“Go on, keep her waiting and she might sprout those horns Abby and I have been expecting for years now,” he whispers.

“I heard that,” Clarke yells from, Lexa presumes, her bedroom. She gives Jake one last, grateful nod and makes her way up the stairs, stopping at the entrance of Clarke’s bedroom.

“I thought Raven and Octavia were going to be here.”

“They’ll be here in like half an hour,” Clarke says over her shoulder. She sits at her desk, typing furiously with her back to Lexa, “make yourself comfortable.”

“I can come back later if you’re not ready.”

“No no,” Clarke’s typing ceases and she pauses for a moment to read what she had written, “I’m all good.” She swivels in her chair to face Lexa. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Lexa furrows her brow, “are you actually done? Or just being polite?”

“Again, am I really _that_ polite?” Lexa gives a soft laugh, sitting awkwardly on the edge of Clarke’s bed. “For real, I’m done. I’ll edit it tomorrow and it’ll be good to go.”

“Which assignment is it?”

“It’s that English essay—”

“You started _and_ finished a two-thousand-word essay in, what? Two hours?”

“It’s actually two and a half thousand, and it was in an hour and a half,” Clarke says, leaning back in her chair with a cocky grin and laughs at the confusion that Lexa is sure is plain on her face. “I’m actually not stupid, Lexa. I just really fucking _hate_ maths. Like, there is no need for numbers to act like that.”

“It’s a universal language, though, and it’s so elegant and—”

“Yeah, yeah, you can keep on being the maths nerd that you are, but I’m going to stay over here with my words and pictures and subjective based talents and hobbies, okay?”

“Fine,” Lexa says, looking around the room in an effort to ignore the smirk playing on Clarke’s lips. “What are those?” She nods her head towards the wall where a sheet is covering some items.

“Canvases.”

“…Have you painted on those canvases?”

“Yes.”

“…Can I see them?” Lexa asks carefully, mindful of the way Clarke was watching her. “Or not, you don’t have to. I just thought—” She stops when Clarke stands and wordlessly walks towards the covered paintings. She looks over her shoulder at Lexa, eyes both firm and vulnerable. 

She removes the sheet to reveal the back of a number of canvases piled up and leaning against the wall and each other. She reaches for one, hesitating momentarily before flipping it around and leaning it back against the wall.

Lexa releases a quiet breath, eyes tracing the confident lines of greens and browns, a brightly lit forest dancing across the canvas. She stares, oblivious to Clarke’s restless hands and cautious eyes, at the cacophony of colour and the fluidity of the brush strokes, some blended and others boldly standing alone and demanding her attention. Her eyes only return to Clarke when she passes in front of the canvas, reaching for another and flipping it around and placing it next to the first.

A similar scene, though darker. The greens are more muted and carry with them an air of menace and mystery. 

_“Broodier,”_ Lexa thinks.

She takes in the new canvas, barely noticing that Clarke had turned around another four canvases and stands timidly to the side, her eyes burning into the side of Lexa’s head as she continues to gape at the artistry. 

She stands, moving towards the canvases and sits crossed-legged in front of the third one revealed and takes in the again darker greens and the dominance of the browns. She shuffles along the carpet and down the line of paintings, noticing they become darker and the colours more muted, the second last one in the line being the exception, being the brightest of the six, with an abundance of yellow amongst the green and brown. 

“Clarke,” she breathes, finally taking her eyes off the canvases and looking up Clarke, “these are… how did you…?”

“You like them?” Lexa stares in bewilderment at the faint blush of pink on an otherwise pale face, shaking her head softly and turning her eyes back to the canvases.

“Are you kidding? These are fucking amazing… why didn’t you tell me you could paint like _this_?” Clarke giggles at that, moving to kneel next to Lexa.

“Well, it’s not like we have always been such _great_ friends. Besides, I _did_ tell you that I paint.”

“Well, yeah, but not like _this_.”

“What, did you think I was all talk?”

“Well, you never even showed me that drawing you did of me that time, so I had no reference.”

“A little faith please, Lexa, gosh,” Clarke says, rising to her feet and making her way to her desk. “I believe all the random skills you say _you_ have.”

“Well, that’s your fault for being that trusting.”

“Are you saying I shouldn’t believe you?” She laughs, rummaging through the piles of books on her desk and returning to Lexa with familiar sketchbook in her hand.

“Yes. I tell many lies.”

“One should not tell lies, Lexa.”

“You sound like Anya,” Lexa mumbles, waiting for Clarke to walk around her and sit to her left, missing the faint blush that colours Clarke’s cheeks.

“How so?”

“Just that… one sentence, really.” She pauses. “The Harry Potter… thing.”

“Oh,” Clarke says, flipping through the pages of her sketchbook. She must find the drawing she was looking for, Lexa thinks, as she pauses and rapidly traces the lines on the page before looking up at Lexa. “Seriously, though. Don’t lie.”

“I won’t,” Lexa says softly. “I don’t.” Clarke nods, handing the sketchbook to Lexa. 

Again, Lexa releases a soft breath, in awe of the work Clarke is able to produce. She stares at herself in graphite, taking in the thoughtful expression that she is sure Clarke made look more intelligent than the look she had actually worn that day as she sat on Clarke’s bed.

“How… how did you make me look like this?”

“Like what?” Clarke says from over her shoulder, having shuffled closer so that her knee was pressed up against Lexa’s. “That’s what you look like.”

“I don’t look like _that_ , are you kidding? I _wish_ I looked like that.” Clarke chuckles softly.

“You _do_ look like that, Lex.”

“You flatter me, princess,” Lexa says, lightly tracing the lines of the drawing with her fingertip.

“You’re going to smudge it.”

“I’m not going to smudge it.”

“You will. That’s a common way artist blend graphite. Oily fingertips smudge well.”

“Did you just call my fingertips oily?”

“Yes,” Clarke says, taking the sketchbook from Lexa’s lap and putting it in her own, “now stop oiling up the pages.”

“So now you’re offending me?”

“Flattering and offending go hand in hand.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, it’s a great technique.”

“Technique for what?”

“I dunno, something cool though I bet.” Lexa laughs as she studies her fingertips, oblivious to the shining grin that Clarke wears next to her.

“So, you really are an artist, huh?”

“You bet.” Lexa turns to look at Clarke, only just noticing how close together they are.

“Are you going to pursue that further in the future?”

“Hopefully,” Clarke whispers.

She feels the burn of Clarke’s shoulder against her own and of the arm Clarke has draped across her knee. She feels the soft breath from Clarke’s lips as they stare at each other with soft features and dancing eyes.

And she feels the sting in her lips as Clarke watches them, unconsciously drifting together with an unknown force beckoning them forward. 

She feels the disappointment when Clarke and herself jump away as the door flies open, Jake and Abby standing there with wide eyes and huge grins.

Then, more intensely than the disappointment flooding her veins, she feels the shock and numbness when Abby opens her mouth and breathlessly whispers what she never thought she would hear.

“We found him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya'll ready of Aden? Because I'm not. 
> 
> Come chat on insta, I will someday post memes and little gay prompts but, until then, I do actually respond to people (unlike on here. Sorry.) @the.unprofessional.writer


	27. Aden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here ya go, a decent bit of plot. 
> 
> You're welcome.
> 
> Hope all of you are staying safe and doing well, and that this may bring even the smallest amount of joy and/or entertainment, or maybe just serve as a good little distraction from life. 
> 
> Cheers.

Clarke wasn’t sure how she had found herself in the back seat of her parent’s car the following Saturday morning, her hands cold from the early November air that had set in so suddenly, and with Lexa continuously tapping her foot in the seat next to her.

Lexa had asked her to go with her to meet Aden, and Clarke didn’t even hesitate. She had recruited her parents (with Lexa’s permission) to be their transport so that there was one less thing for Lexa to worry about.

But that was a lie that Clarke would never admit to.

She had asked her parents to join because she was nervous, and she was completely terrified for Lexa. She was terrified that Aden wouldn’t care, or that his new parents were awful, or that Lexa, for some reason, decided she couldn’t go through with it. 

She was terrified that Lexa would walk away from this in more pain than she was in when she didn’t know. 

And she was terrified that Lexa would blame it on her, and that all the progress they had made towards… wherever they were heading, would fall apart in one morning. 

“You girls warm enough back there?” Abby asks over her shoulder, not taking her eyes off the road ahead of her.

“Yeah, mom.”

“We’re all good, Abby. Thank you.” Clarke looks to her left and frowns at Lexa’s profile.

“It’s cooled down pretty quickly, hasn’t it?” Jake says, his hand loosely holding the handle above his window. “And it just gets colder in the city, doesn’t it, Lexa?” Lexa merely hums in response, her gaze firmly set out the window as her leg continues to bounce.

Clarke wasn’t sure _why_ Lexa had asked her to come, _or_ why she was so willing to accept Jake and Abby’s help as well. But, as Clarke watches her find more ways to fidget as they get closer to Polis, she starts to feel that maybe she doesn’t need to know to still be useful.

“You okay?” 

“Yeah.”

“You sure?”

“Mhmm.” Clarke frowns, reaching over to poke Lexa’s thigh and wearing a warm smile when Lexa turns to scowl at her.

“It’s gonna be okay, Lex.”

“…You don’t know that.”

“No… but you’ve got us there anyway.” She grins as Lexa nods, almost as though she was reassuring herself of this fact. “And his parents did agree to this meeting… so they can’t be too bad, right?”

“I hope so,” Lexa mumbles, returning her gaze out the window.

“Hey,” Clarke places her hand in the middle seat, leaning over to Lexa as much as her seatbelt would allow and poking her thigh once again, “you’ll be okay. You’ve always been okay.” She watches Lexa’s throat bob and her hands ball themselves into fists in her lap.

Without thinking too much on it, Clarke reaches over and takes Lexa’s hand, bringing it to rest on her own in the middle seat.

She didn’t expect Lexa to open her hand so willingly.

Or for her to squeeze her hand after Clarke had laced their fingers together.

Or for her to release a slow breath and cease the movements of her leg.

And she definitely didn’t expect their hands to remain that way until they pulled up in front of a house on the outskirts of Polis almost two hours later.

\-----------------------

“What if they’re horrible to him.”

“Lexa—”

“And they hurt him—”

“Lexa, please calm—”

“Or if they don’t feed him?”

“Lex—”

“What if they—”

“LEXA!” Clarke stops Lexa in the driveway, moving in front of her and putting her hands on her shoulders to shake her gently. “Stop.”

“But Clarke,” Lexa’s eyes frantically scan her face and periodically flick to the suburban house behind them, “what if they just let me come here to tell me to fuck off? Or what if this is all a ruse and Aden isn’t even here?”

“Lexa, sweetie,” Clarke says, oblivious to the term of endearment she had never used before, “it’s going to be okay. No one is _that_ horrible of a person _and_ has a white picket fence _that_ white, okay?”

“You’ve obviously never watched Desperate Housewives.”

“And I can’t believe that you have,” Clarke giggles, her chest swelling at the small smile she was able to bring to Lexa’s pale face. “Look. Say you’re right and they’re awful. You know what we’re going to do?”

“Cry?”

“Yes, but after that we’re going to throw every resource we have into getting him out of there, okay? And we won’t stop until he’s safe.” She holds Lexa’s eyes with her own until she receives a weak nod. “Good, now c’mon. Mom and Dad are looking nervous.”

Jake and Abby, as they had promised, were waiting at the foot of the driveway, both leaning against the car and keeping a close watch on the situation.

“How did this happen, Clarke?” Clarke turns to Lexa, walking slightly behind her as they make their way up the driveway.

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean…” Lexa takes in a sharp breath, “I mean that after all this time and after all the effort I’ve put into trying to find him, after _twelve_ years of wondering what’s happened to him… I just… _tell_ you about him and three weeks later I’m standing on the driveway of what may very well be his new home.” She turns and looks desperately at Clarke, her eyes more vulnerable than Clarke had ever seen them. “It’s just happened so quickly now and I’m… I’m not ready.”

“Lex,” Clarke says gently, “I’d love to give you all the sappy advice in the world, but right now is your chance and you _have_ to take it. He’s your family. This is the crazy kind of shit you do for family, okay?”

“You mean showing up at a stranger’s door and demanding them I see my long-lost brother?”

“Yes. Well, I mean… maybe don’t _demand_ but otherwise, yeah.” A small smile pulls at the corner of Lexa’s mouth, though fades just as quickly as it came as she stares at the door in front of her.

“I’m scared, princess.”

“You’re not scared of anything Lex.” With one last nod and a giant breath, Lexa brings a shaking hand to the door and knocks firmly three times. 

The five seconds that pass as they stand on the porch before anything happens feels like the longest of Clarke’s life, and she can tell by the stillness beside her that Lexa feels the same. 

She feels the sharp intake of breath next to her as the door swings open and reveals a dark woman. Clarke, unaware of the subconscious slow circles she rubs on Lexa’s lower back, releases a slow breath when the soft eyes of the woman shine along with the smile that appear on her lips. She turns to Lexa and extends her hand.

“Judging by how pale you are, you must be Lexa, yes?”

“Yes, I, um—” Lexa chokes on her words, choosing instead to give the woman a firm nod.

“It’s lovely to meet you, dear.” She turns to Clarke. “And it’s also nice to meet you…?”

“Clarke,” Clarke smiles and accepts the hand now extended towards her.

“Nice to meet you, Clarke. I’m Sally, and this,” she looks behind her, beckoning at someone behind the door, “is my partner, Cam.” A tall Latina appears behind Sally, a matching smile gracing their features. 

Clarke accepts the hand extended to her and watches as Lexa does the same, still unable to form sentences so settling instead for small nods and weak smiles. 

“Are you ready to see Aden?” Cam asks, stepping further out the door and placing a hand around their wife’s waist.

“Oh, uh,” Lexa stammers. She looks to Clarke with wide eyes and fidgets with her fingers as she waits.

“Yes, uh… please,” Clarke says, awkward and uncertain, though relaxes upon seeing Lexa nodding in agreement.

“I’ll go get him,” Cam smiles, disappearing inside and leaving Clarke and Lexa shuffling outside and Sally playing with her necklace as she watches them.

“We, um,” she begins, sending an apologetic smile to Lexa, “we haven’t exactly… _told_ him, about today.”

“Oh, that’s um… why?”

“Because… he knows. You know, about _you_. And we, um… wanted to see if he remembers. Though now it seems a bit… it seems like a bit of a gamble.” She finishes with a grimace, her eyes worried as she searches Lexa’s face.

Clarke’s circles against her back hadn’t ceased and Lexa leans into her palm, nodding and smiling weakly at Sally before staring at her feet and tracing the scar running across her left palm with her fingers. 

They wait in tense silence, Lexa not moving her gaze away from her feet until Sally steps to the side and the door opens wider to reveal a boy.

His sandy blonde hair falls into eyes that were looking up at Cam, their hand on his shoulder as they lead him towards the front door and to a trembling Lexa. 

“Aden,” Sally says, reaching for him and bringing him in front of her, “this is Lexa.” Clarke watches with bated breath as Aden looks up at Lexa—him being slightly shorter than Clarke herself—and as Lexa meets blue eyes, standing as still as stone and looking as though she weren’t breathing. 

“Hey,” Lexa whispers, her voice anything but steady.

Clarke glances between her and Aden who, to her worry, was staring up at Lexa with a soft frown.

_“He doesn’t know.”_

He tilts his head to the side, his frown deepening before he swiftly turns on his heel and disappears back inside, pushing past an upset Sally and an uncomfortable Cam as they exchange wide eyed glances. 

Clarke feels more of Lexa’s weight press into her palm, hearing her release a shaky sigh and shuffle her feet while looking unwaveringly at her shoes and playing with her fingers. 

“Lexa, honey… I’m so sorry,” Sally says, moving out onto the porch to stand on the other side of Lexa and placing a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s fine,” Lexa whispers, gaze still downcast, “I don’t really know what I was expecting anyway…”

“I’m sure he’ll be delighted once we talk to him and explain… it was probably just—”

“No no,” Lexa says, momentarily ceasing her fidgeting to quickly move a hand to wipe at her cheek, “don’t tell him. There’s no point, uh… burdening him with information he doesn’t really need.”

“But it’s _his_ history too, Lex,” Clarke says, standing closer to Lexa than she was previously.

“We _have_ told him,” Cam says from the doorway, “he knows about his first adoption and the crash… he even has the box of belongings we were given when we got him.”

“It just… doesn’t look like he has touched it, though,” Sally says softly, squeezing Lexa’s shoulder.

They all stand in tense silence for a few moments, Clarke hearing nothing but Lexa’s struggle to keep her breathing steady.

“How old was he when you both adopted him?” Clarke asks cautiously, flicking her eyes towards Lexa to see if she was overstepping.

“Four and a half.”

“He was all eyes,” Sally says, smiling softly at Lexa who had finally looked up from her shoes with red-rimmed eyes, “and he was always carrying around the tiniest backpack.”

“He refused to let go of it for the first couple of months, and no one was allowed to take it from him or even touch it,” Cam chuckles, leaning against the doorframe. 

“Wait, he has the backpack?” Lexa says, looking between Sally and Cam.

“Yes… you know the backpack?”

“Yeah,” Lexa says, standing up straighter, “it was attached to a bear I had. I always kept it in a box and when I left the orphanage, I couldn’t find the bag… it’s pink and orange? With blue seams?”

“Yeah,” Cam says, sharing a look with their wife, “it’s… it’s _your_ backpack?” Lexa nods, looking the surest she had the entire morning.

“It only had one thing inside, and I was _devastated_ that I lost it, but—” she stops when a head of blonde appears at the door again, holding what looked to be a worn piece of paper no larger than his palm. 

He holds it up, scanning the paper before flicking his eyes to scan Lexa’s face, repeating the process a number of times before a wide smile bursts across his face and he practically skips the few steps to stand directly in front of a statuesque Lexa and holds out the piece of paper.

“You’re my sister,” he states, beaming up at Lexa.

Clarke watches as Lexa extends a shaky hand to take what appears to be a faded photograph and releases a simultaneous chuckle and cry.

“I looked for this everywhere.”

“Sorry,” Aden says, smile still firmly in place, “I took it before I left.”

“Why?”

“I dunno.” His grin turns cheeky and he puffs out his chest a little. “That’s what little brothers do.” 

Clarke’s vision blurs as Lexa laughs and pulls Aden in for a long-awaited hug, her vision almost going altogether when Lexa swivels her and Aden around so that she could send Clarke the widest grin she had ever seen. 

\---------------------------

Clarke couldn’t imagine the amount of relief Lexa must be feeling considering how much she herself felt. 

Sally and Cam had welcomed them both into their home so that they didn’t have to stand out in the cool air. They had let Lexa and Aden catch up privately, leaving Clarke to answer all the questions Sally and Cam had about Lexa, to which she had a surprising amount of knowledge and an expected obliviousness to the looks they shared.

Lexa and Aden had come racing down the stairs at Sally’s call for cookies, Lexa childlike in her excitement and banter with Aden, and they had sat in the lounge room sharing stories from the last nine years.

They told Lexa about Aden’s adoption and how they had fought to adopt her too, since he kept rambling—in the way toddlers do—about his sister.

They told her about how they argued against the law that prevents a couple from adopting more than one child in a three-year period unless they were siblings, and they told her how they argued that they _were_ siblings. 

They told her about how, after the three years, they went back looking to adopt her. 

And they told her how upset they were that they weren’t able to keep her and Aden together, and how they had never given up hope or had stopped trying to find her. 

And they told her all the fun little stories of young Aden and his shenanigans and his mistakes and his growth, and Clarke watched on as Lexa beamed with pride with Aden tucked into her side.

And Clarke was relieved that Aden had found such a stable home after all he had been through in his short life, and that he was raised by such kind people that had fought so hard to reunite them.

She was relieved that Lexa finally got her brother back after all these years, and that she looked so happy and _whole_. 

And, though she didn’t vocalise it, she was relieved that Lexa kept sending her small smiles throughout their visit, because that meant Lexa had nothing to blame on Clarke. 

And, while that was a selfish relief, Clarke couldn’t help but to grin back and release a happy sigh every time. 

“So, I’ll see you next weekend, yeah?” Aden says on the porch, moving to wrap his arms tightly around Lexa’s middle. 

“I’ll be here at 9am sharp to pick you up,” Lexa replies, pulling him into her by his shoulders, “and it’ll just be you and me all weekend.” Clarke stands a little way behind them, cocking her head to the side when Aden sends her a mischievous grin around Lexa’s shoulder.

“And your girlfriend too, I hope,” Aden whispers loudly, his eyes locked with Clarke’s. He laughs at the heat Clarke can feel in her cheeks and at the soft slap up the head he receives from Lexa. “What? You shouldn’t neglect her for little ol’ me.” Clarke can’t make out what Lexa hisses at him, but by the combination of pure glee and suppressed fear on his face, Clarke thinks he may have just gotten his first sisterly scolding in almost a decade. 

He moves around Lexa and bounds over to a surprised Clarke, throwing his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder.

“Thank you for looking after her.”

“I really haven’t done all that much, Aden,” Clarke says timidly, returning the embrace.

“You have though,” he insists, pulling back from the hug to look her in the eye, “I can tell by the way she talks about you.” Clarke blinks.

“She spoke about me?” Aden grins again, turning quickly to see Lexa making her way over after her farewells to Sally and Cam, and leans towards Clarke conspiratorially.

“And I think Lexa thinks you’re very pretty,” he whispers loudly once again, receiving another slap up the head from a furiously blushing Lexa and a hissed ‘stop talking’. 

Clarke smirks, winking at Aden before replying; “Oh, I already knew that. You should have seen her after she cut her hand with a knife. Practically drooling, she was.”

“I was all disoriented from the pain!”

“Uh huh, and the next day by my pool?”

“That bikini had more strings than actual coverage, I was concerned.”

“Yeah, that your lady boner would burst from your—”

“ _ADEN!_ ” He laughs, running back towards the house and turning back to wave.

“Saturday, 9am! Don’t forget!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be here. I’ll see you soon,” Lexa says, her cheeks still a deep red but a soft smile sitting on her lips as she waves back to Aden.

“So, he’s a delight,” Clarke says as they walk down the driveway, bumping her shoulder against Lexa’s.

“He’s annoying, like you. Actually,” Lexa says dramatically, “he is what I imagine you were like when you were thirteen.”

“Yes, I was quite delightful,”

“ _Annoying._ ”

“Maybe, but you still _adore_ us both.”

“Shut up,” Lexa mutters, eyes locked ahead of her. “I need to find a way to pay your parents back for all this. Especially for just… sitting in the car for so long while they waited.”

“They’ll be fine,” Clarke says, looking towards the car. “See, they’re reading, they’re fine.”

They reach the car, Lexa opening the door and letting Clarke slide across before getting in after her, immediately thanking Jake and Abby for waiting and driving them. 

They answer all the questions Jake and Abby have, Lexa confirming that Aden would be staying with her every few weekends and that she would stay in touch with Sally and Cam too, who, she assures, were amazing people and even better parents to Aden. 

They lapse into silence as they exit the city, the sun sitting low in the sky and a cool nip returning to the air. Clarke smiles as the buildings fade and trees rise up in their place, smiling wider still when a cold hand reaches for hers and brings it to rest upon it on the middle seat for the rest of the drive home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now ain't that shit cute. 
> 
> Ya boi has started a challenge I myself made up to get myself to do more things and build better habits, so hopefully that means I update more often. No promises though.
> 
> That also means that I may hopefully start posting some memes and prompts on insta, so come have a chat: @the.unprofessional.writer


	28. Eighteen / Not About Boxing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I present to you 5k+ words of Clexa plot. You're very welcome. 
> 
> Excuse any errors, my brain doesn't work the way it used to. Also, sleep eludes me.
> 
> Hope yall are well and keeping safe.
> 
> Cheers.

“Yes, Anya, I promise you will meet him soon.”

“’Soon’ isn’t soon enough.”

“Anya,” Lexa sighs into the phone, “I’m still getting to know him myself.”

“He’s your brother, it’s not like it should be that hard.”

“Anya—”

“I know, that was dumb. But still, I demand to meet him before Lincoln does.”

“I don’t think that’ll happen.”

“And why ever not?”

“Because his mom demanded it first and I am in her debt.” A pause. “I also like her more than I like you.”

“You fiend. I am offended.”

“You’ll be alright.” Lexa walks out the front of the school, pulling her backpack more securely onto her shoulders and makes a beeline for the carpark.

“Anyway, moving on from your blasphemy: the weekend went well, right?”

“It did.” She grins as she thinks about the weekend just passed. 

“…Are you going to give details? Or are you just gonna be a whore about it all?” Lexa sighs again as she approaches her bike. 

“After I picked him up, he asked if I had trained Clarke yet.”

“He knows about that?”

“Yeah, I told him last week. When I said I had postponed so we could spend time together, he _demanded_ I grab Clarke and train her.”

“And did you?”

“Of course, I did, he wouldn’t shut up until I agreed.”

“I love your brother.”

“Shut up. He kept telling me I needed to ‘fix Clarke’s stance’ and ‘help her with her technique’. Her technique was perfect, I dunno what he was on about.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Shut up,” Lexa mutters, swinging her leg over her bike but not starting it up. “Then we just hung out. Turns out he’s super into soccer, so we played a bit of that in the backyard. Played some video games and he taught me how to properly cook broccoli and—”

“How do you not know how to prepare broccoli?”

“Because I focus on far more important skills, Anya.”

“It’s broccoli. It isn’t a skill, it’s common sense.”

“How was I supposed to know it needs to be boiled?”

“How else would you eat it?!”

“I dunno? Raw?”

“ _Why_ would you _do_ that?”

“Maybe I _like_ raw broccoli.”

“ _No one_ likes raw broccoli, you dumbass. I don’t even know if it’s safe to eat it like that.”

“It’s a plant, what could it possibly do to you?”

“Have you ever even _been_ outside?”

“I—” Lexa pauses when she hears familiar laughter sound from behind her, turning around to see Clarke, Raven, and Octavia heading her way. “I… I have.”

“Are you sure? Because plants are vicious and one should fear them, not just eat them raw and hope for pleasantness.”

“I, uh…” Lexa stammers, returning the soft smile Clarke sends her and waving to Raven and Octavia, “I don’t think too much about… uh—”

“That’s true, you don’t think too much.” Lexa doesn’t hear her, too busy mouthing Anya’s name to answer the question shining in Clarke’s eyes. “…Lexa?”

“Hmm?”

“You okay? You didn’t grumble at my pathetic joke.”

“Oh, yeah, uh… Clarke’s here.”

“Of course she is. Tell her I say hi.”

“Anya says hi,” Lexa repeats.

“Hi Anya!”

“Hiii Anya!!” Raven yells over Clarke’s shoulder, waving aggressively as if Anya could see her.

“Raven says hi,” Lexa says into the phone, huffing out a short laugh at Anya’s amused ‘I know, say it back’. “Anya says hi.”

“Hey Anya!” Octavia says, smiling at Lexa. “Clarke wants to ask you guys something so, Lexa, put her on speaker.” Lexa narrows her eyes at the huge grins both Octavia and Raven wear and raises an eyebrow at the faint blush painting Clarke’s cheeks.

“Uhh, sure.” Lexa takes her phone away from her ear, “Anya, you’re on speaker. The delinquents wanna ask us something.”

“If I heard correctly, it’s _Clarke_ that wants to ask us something,” Anya’s voice hums from the phone Lexa has held out between her and the girls. Lexa smiles when Clarke rolls her eyes, the blush becoming a deeper red.

“I just wanted to invite you guys to my birthday… thing. On Saturday. It’s just a small get together at mine with the delinquents and, uh… and you guys. Y’know, if you guys wanna come or what—”

“We’ll be there,” Anya interrupts, and Lexa can practically _hear_ her scheming.

“That includes Lincoln too, okay?” Octavia says from beside Clarke.

“It’s not like I could keep him away if I tried,” Anya says sweetly, releasing a dry laugh. “He’ll be there.” Lexa shakes her head at Octavia’s little fist pump.

“We’ll see you guys then!” Octavia says, grabbing Clarke and Raven both by the wrist and dragging them away, not giving Lexa the chance to say goodbye.

She catches Clarke’s eye when she looks over her shoulder, sending her a small wave that Lexa is all too quick to return.

“So,” Anya’s voice rises from the phone, “has the gay panic set in yet?”

\---------------------------

Lexa breathes through the sting in her knuckles and the burn in her shoulders, stepping around one of the punching bags hanging on the far right of the gym’s basement. She keeps her hands up, blocking her face between every succession of hits she lands on the bag, following through the routine she had built so long ago and refuses to change.

Almost every night since her gym opened, once her final boxing class had finished and the last member had put the weights back in position, she closes the door and dims the upstairs lights, making her way down into the basement and spends a good forty-five minutes at the bag, letting the worries and stresses of the day fall from her shoulders and be replaced by the familiar burn that she loves so much. 

Classical music plays loudly from the speakers in the corners of the space, her hits being timed to the rhythms created by the greats.

She doesn’t stop. 

Even when her arms feel like jelly. 

Even when the sweat sliding down her mostly bare back falls to the floor in small puddles, or the sweat from her forehead drips into her eyes and burns.

Even when a figure appears at the top of the stairs and slowly makes their way down, reaching the bottom and standing there, watching. 

Lexa’s eyes flick to one of the clocks around the room and huffs, only twenty minutes into her routine.

_“Why is this getting harder?”_

She lands a flurry of jabs to the bag.

_“I should be getting stronger.”_

She steps around, landing low punches as she moves.

_“And this should be getting easier.”_

She steps back, dodging an imaginary punch, then lunges forward and strikes at the bag twice. 

She looks at the clock again.

_“Where’s that focus?”_

Another flurry of punches.

_“Like back in Polis.”_

She ducks, jumping back up and landing some high punches.

_“Or even just a few weeks ago...”_

She stops, panting and shaking and not nearly as relaxed as she usually is while doing this.

_“Where the fuck is the focus? The drive? The anger and—”_

“I know I should be surprised that you listen to classical music while wailing on an inanimate object, but I’m really not.” Lexa whirls around, heart pounding. “You should really lock the door when you’re down here by yourself.”

“What the _fuck_ , Clarke?” Lexa almost yells, clutching at her chest and breathing heavily, “Why would you do that?”

“Well, I did wait until you were done punching.” Lexa looks at her, eyes wild and verging on angry.

“So, what? You’ve just been _standing_ there and _watching_ me?”

“Well… yeah. I didn’t want to scare you.”

“Well, you _did_!” Clarke walks over to Lexa, her eyes noticeably red.

“I’m sorry, but how else would you have me get your attention?”

“I dunno,” Lexa says, losing the anger the longer she watches Clarke who, to Lexa’s concern, looks smaller than usual, “knock?”

Clarke releases a soft chuckle, shaking her head as she comes to stand in front of Lexa. “You really think that would’ve been better?”

“I mean… I may have thought the place was haunted for a split second, but at least it wasn’t just a voice gliding across the room from the darkness.”

“It’s not even dark down here.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Well, I’m sorry. Really. You need to lock that door when you’re alone.”

“As you’ve said,” Lexa mumbles, moving to sit on the floor next to her bag.

“For real though, that shit is dangerous. Like, what if I was a murderer or something?”

“Or, the more likely scenario” Lexa says, watching as Clarke moves to join her so they were sitting shoulder to shoulder, “you could just be a princess trying to give me a heart attack.”

“I said sorry.”

“I know. I can just… still feel my heart.”

“I just have that effect on you.”

“Shut up,” Lexa laughs lightly, grabbing her water bottle from her bag and sipping it. “Why are you here? It’s late. And Thursday. You’re never here on a Thursday.”

“I’m never here six out of seven days, Lex.”

“So you agree it’s unusual, then?”

“I just…” Clarke sighs, bringing her hands up to rub at her eyes with her knuckles, “I just needed to be here.”

Lexa looks at her expectantly, waiting for an explanation. When it doesn’t come, she nudges Clarke with her shoulder, “What’s wrong?” 

Clarke looks at her, her eyes tired and puffy, before looking down at her hands in her lap.

“My grandparents showed up again,” she says quietly, flinching slightly when Lexa tenses.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Clarke lets out a soft laugh, “Dad handled it. Kinda.”

“Kinda?”

“He would just—” she giggles, “—he would just _scream_ whenever they opened their mouths. Like, a high pitched, glass shattering kind of scream, it was incredible. They got so angry they just left.”

“Go, Jake,” Lexa chuckles, picturing all too clearly the scene Clarke describes. 

They sit in silence for a while, Lexa keeping an eye on Clarke while she continues to stare at her hands. After a few minutes, she nudges Clarke with her shoulder again, pushing against her so that Clarke has to steady herself with a palm against the floor.

“Why did you choose to come here?”

“I can feel the sweat from your shoulder through my hoodie, Lex,” Clarke deflects.

“I know, it’s peak sexy. Answer the question.”

“Pfft, whatever,” Clarke mumbles, looking away from Lexa to stare at the clock on the opposite wall. 

“The question, Clarke.” 

“You’re really annoying, you know that?”

“Coming from the princess,” Lexa drawls. Clarke turns back towards Lexa, frowning.

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“I dunno. I just… wanted to talk to you.”

“About your grandparents?”

“Kinda.”

“…How’d you know I would be here?” Clarke releases an amused chuckle.

“I did go to your place first,” she says sheepishly. “You exist in only, like, three places, Lex.” 

“Four, if you count your thoughts.”

“Har de har, shut up. I would have just texted but… I realised that I didn’t have your number or anything. And you were there the last time they showed up and, I dunno… I just wanted to talk to you.”

“So… what you’re saying is that you wanted my protection.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Lexa—”

“I thought you didn’t want me protecting you.”

“I don’t, shut up.”

“But here you are.” Lexa smiles victoriously when Clarke watches her with a single eyebrow raised.

“…But here I am.” Lexa blinks at the faint blush that dusts Clarke’s cheeks, watching her as she runs a hand through her hair and avoids her gaze. “How’s Aden?”

“He’s good!” Lexa starts, beaming and forgetting all too quickly the softness in Clarke’s eyes in favour of rambling about her brother. “We’ve planned to go see Europe once he’s older and I’m in college, or maybe even after college, I dunno, I think he wants to be able to properly party or something, which is concerning since he’s not even fourteen yet, but it would be super cool. Ohh! And apparently he wants to either be a soccer player or a social worker, which I think is super cool all things considered. He’s really good at soccer, too. We played a bit on the weekend and he kicked my ass, which was kinda embarrassing, but I was also really proud, and—"

Lexa’s tangent rumbles on, her focus solely on boasting about Aden and completely off the weight of Clarke leaning against her shoulder and the soft blue eyes that trace her profile again and again.

\---------------------------

“Lexa, would you _please_ stop pacing.”

“No.”

“You literally saw her this morning at the gym, stop being dumb.”

“No.”

“Lexa.”

“Anya.”

“Lexa, I will beat your ass.”

“Guys,” Lincoln says from the door, shoes on and phone in hand, “we’re already late.”

“Tell your girlfriend that Lexa won’t stop pacing.”

“Octavia isn’t my girlfriend—”

“Yet.” Lincoln rolls his eyes at Anya’s knowing smirk and begins to type.

“You didn’t actually tell her I’m pacing, did you?” Lexa asks, finally coming to a stop.

“I did, now come on, I want to drink and see those delinquents of yours.”

“Yeah, Lexi,” Anya coos, coming to stand behind her to guide her to the door by her shoulders, “put your shoes on so we can go mingle with _your_ delinquents.”

“I dunno why you think I’ll be offended by them being _mine_ ,” Lexa mumbles, doing as told and slipping on her Vans, “they’re cool.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Hurry up, we have delinquents to see and Clarke’s to interrogate.” Anya flicks Lexa’s black hood onto her head, ignoring Lexa’s protests in favour of swinging the door open and shoving Lexa outside.

“What—”

“No time for arguing, Lexi, we’re late.” Lexa sighs, letting herself be pushed down the driveway, hearing the deadlock slam shut behind Lincoln and his phone continuously buzz. 

“What’s Octavia saying?”

“Nothing that concerns you.” Lexa looks over her shoulder and past Anya to see Lincoln wearing a wide grin. He speeds up to pass her and be the one to knock on the door that Anya was still insistently pushing Lexa towards.

They wait for a moment, Lexa shrugging off Anya’s hands and scowling at her friends and their matching smirks. 

“Lexa!” The door swings open to reveal Jake, a tie wrapped around his head like a bandana and a can of lemonade in his hand. “And friends I haven’t met! Welcome!”

“Hi Jake, thanks for having us,” Lexa says. “This is Anya and Lincoln.”

“Hello, Mr. Griffin,” they say in unison, smirks replaced with wide, mischievous grins that cause Jake to raise his eyebrows.

“Are they up to something?” He whispers to Lexa, opening the door wider so that the three of them could enter the house.

“They always are. Nine times out of ten it’s just their plans to embarrass me, so you’re safe.”

“Ah,” Jake laughs, leading them through the house, “as long as me and my home are safe.” He stops in the kitchen and points to the sliding door leading to the backyard. “The party is out there. Help yourself to some alcohol, but don’t go too crazy. We are highly strict and responsible adults, after all.” He winks, a playful grin lighting his features.

“Thank you, Jake,” Lexa says, nodding as he waves dramatically while walking backwards out of the kitchen, Lexa hearing his footsteps going up the stairs moments later. 

Lexa turns to Anya and Lincoln, both looking like excited puppies eager to cause trouble. “You two better behave.”

“Don’t we always?” Anya says, Lincoln standing behind her with an overly wide grin and two thumbs up. 

Lexa mutters a small rebuttal before sliding the door open, stepping out into the cool November air and stopping almost immediately. 

“Now, it’s time to join your people,” Anya says, grabbing Lexa by the shoulders and using one arm to make a sweeping gesture across the backyard and at the scattered, surprisingly tame delinquents. She gives her a small shake and then a gentle pat before her and Lincoln, shouting a quick ‘sup, delinquent scum’ to a cheered greeting, make their way over to the game of beer pong near the fence on the left side of the backyard. 

Lexa chuckles at the way Octavia jumps into Lincoln, and then at how hard he blushes in response. She brings a hand to her mouth to stifle her laughter at Raven attempting to do the same to Anya, only for Anya to sidestep and leave Raven to stumble to the floor, rising with a deep frown and sad pout. 

She turns away from Jasper and Finn making kissy noises at them from the other end of the table, where significantly less cups stood, to admire the fire pit out on the grass in the middle of the backyard, waving a small hello to Emori and Harper who were sipping beers in lawn chairs next to it. 

Her eyes sweep across the table immediately to her right, displaying a plethora of beers and mixers, and wander further to land on a boxer-clad Murphy floating in the pool by himself, beer in hand as he reclines on an inflatable pizza slice. 

She waves at Bellamy, who appeared to be successfully ignoring the deep concentration and frustration on the faces of Monty, Miller, and Bryan as they play cards poolside. 

“Lexa!” Clarke appears from the door behind her, her cheeks rosy and an empty bottle in her hand. “You’re late.”

“Anya and Lincoln were being pains,” Lexa says, bringing her hand up to rub at the nape of her neck. She blushes when a smirk appears on Clarke’s lips while she walks around her to get to the table of alcohol.

“That’s not what I heard,” she says matter of factly, offering Lexa the choice of a beer or mixer. “But whatever you say, Lex.” Lexa grimaces, accepting the beer and hurrying to take a swig. 

“What happened to tequila?” Clarke releases a short laugh, taking a sip of the bright pink mixer in hand.

“Mom and Dad are letting us drink but, y’know, responsibly. Which means we only have the options of carbs or lolly water.”

“Well, you have enough of it,” Lexa says, eyeing the table.

“Yeah, they tried their best with the being responsible thing… not their forte, apparently.” Lexa feels herself redden under Clarke’s unfocused gaze, desperately taking sips of her beer to try and distract herself from those piercing eyes.

“You have a lovely backyard.”

“You’ve seen it before, Lex,” Clarke giggles, reaching out to grab Lexa’s hand and lead her towards the pool. “But, if you really have forgotten, maybe being by the _pool_ will refresh your memory.”

Lexa swallows thickly and feels a burning heat creep its way up her neck at the reminder of her failed attempt to avoid Clarke’s cleavage while she had tended to her hand. Her silence brings forth another giggle from Clarke, who opens the gate and pulls Lexa inside, ushering her towards the boys with a gentle push to her lower back.

“Ever so lovely for you to join us, Lexa,” Monty says, the cards before him forgotten.

“Yeah, Woods,” Murphy shouts from the centre of the pool, “nice of you to _finally_ grace us with your presence.”

“The fuck are you doing in the pool, Murphy? It’s freezing.”

“I’m in my element, Woods,” he mumbles, relaxing further onto the pizza slice. “I’m in my element.”

“Your friends are weird,” Lexa says to Clarke who, she realises, was leaning against her side as she sipped her drink.

“They’re your friends too, Lex.”

“Yeah, Lexa,” Bellamy pipes up, standing and pulling off his hoodie and his jeans. “You’re stuck with us now. You’re one of us.” A slow chant of ‘one of us’ builds from the boys before Bellamy leaps into the pool, effectively knocking Murphy off his pizza slice and into the water. 

He splutters to the surface, beer held high above his head, and glares at a cackling Bellamy. Lexa feels more of Clarke’s weight press against her shoulder though watches in amusement when Murphy simply takes a sip of his beer and reclines to float on his back.

“Your friends are weird,” she repeats, turning to Clarke and jumping slightly when she finds eyes already watching her.

“You like them though.”

“Irrelevant.”

“Yo, canoodlers!” Lexa turns to raise an eyebrow at Octavia on the other side of the backyard. “We’re challenging you to a battle.”

“So very weird,” Lexa mutters, allowing herself to be led over to the table where the ‘battle’ was to take place. 

“C’mon, Lexi,” Anya says from behind Raven, “try to show at _least_ half the enthusiasm of your girl there.” She points at Clarke aggressively pouring a combination of beer and mixers into cups, filling them to the top and looking all too proud of herself in doing so.

“Clarke, you’re going to kill us.”

“Well, _you_ gotta catch up, _Lexi_.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Win this for us and I might consider it.”

\-----------------------

To everyone’s surprise, Lexa and Clarke come out victorious against the reigning champs, basking in the battle cries of Jasper and Finn and in the bewildered expressions on Raven and Octavia’s faces. 

“You really don’t like being called ‘Lexi’, aye, Lexa?” Raven mutters, sinking into an amused Anya.

“I do not,” Lexa says smugly, once again bearing the weight of Clarke against her side while she refills the cups. 

“We challenge Anya and Lincoln!” Clarke cheers, ignoring Lexa’s futile resistance in favour of handing her the first cup that Anya immediately sinks the ball into. 

“I’ve caught up, princess,” she mumbles after finishing the cup.

“That just means that now _I_ can drink too.”

“You’re insane.”

“And you’re lame. C’mon, I wanna see how Anya reacts to losing.”

\--------------------

“So, Anya doesn’t react well to losing,” Clarke slurs, sitting on one of the vacated lawn chairs by the fire pit and watching as Harper and Emori sink ball after ball into the cups sitting in front of the defeated shells of Jasper and Finn, Miller and Bryan behind them and each giving them an aggressive shoulder rub.

“And yet you persisted,” Lexa murmurs from her place on the grass beside her, eyes closed and head leaning against Clarke’s thigh as delicate fingers card through her hair. 

“Is she _actually_ gonna attack me in my sleep?”

“Nah… well, she _might_ draw a few dicks on your face, but she won’t _hurt_ you.” Clarke groans in reply, fingers moving rhythmically through Lexa’s hair. 

Though Anya’s glare in response to being bested by Lexa and Clarke had the hair on the back of Lexa’s neck standing on end, Clarke hadn’t hesitated to happily challenge Bellamy and Murphy to a game, too. 

Anya and Lincoln had stood to the side, Anya watching the game with great intensity while Lincoln opted for listening to Octavia ramble about her perfected beer pong technique. 

Not even Raven’s slurred pick-up lines were able to draw a smile from her, and though Lexa had laughed at Raven’s ‘if I’m a Halogen, you must be an Alkali, ‘coz you’ve got me _reacting_ ’, the fear never dissipated.

The fear remained even when her and Clarke were once again victorious.

The fear remained when a still half naked Murphy silently walked across the backyard and belly-flopped into the pool.

And the fear remains as Anya periodically sends her daggers between her hushed conversations with a very unsteady, rambling Raven.

“Stop thinking,” Clarke mumbles, sinking further into the chair so that Lexa’s head moves from her thigh to her hip.

“She’s gonna murder me.”

“You said she’ll just draw dicks on our faces.”

“On _your_ face. I’m like the bratty little sister that never learns.” Lexa tilts her head back to look up at Clarke. “This is the end.”

“Stop being dramatic. Besides, I’ll protect you.” 

“Pfft, you can’t even protect yourself, princess.”

“Well, I’m only as good as my teacher.”

“Woah,” Lexa says, sitting upright so fast that Clarke’s hand remains frozen in mid-air where Lexa’s head just was. “It’s only been six weeks. And only _five_ sessions.”

“And yet I’m still all feeble and unable to protect myself.”

“Because you only last ten minutes before tapping out and—”

“I bet all my money that Clarke could last _wayyyy_ longer than ten minutes,” Raven slurs as she stumbles past, dragging a concerned Anya behind her and pulling her down onto the grass a few meters behind Clarke and Lexa.

“No, I’ve tried. Ten minutes, and even _that_ is apparently too much for her.” Lexa tilts her head like a confused puppy at the guffaw Raven releases and at the quirk on Anya’s lips.

“I don’t think she’s talking about boxing, Lexa,” Octavia says as she too passes them with Lincoln in tow, dropping herself down next to Raven and pulling her by the neck to lay back on the grass, giggling together.

Lexa frowns, looking desperately to Clarke in hopes of an explanation, only to be met with a red-faced blonde whose eyes were locked on the grass at her feet. 

“Clarke, what do they mean?”

“Nothing.”

“We were talking about boxing. Why wouldn’t it be about boxing?” Lexa’s frown deepens further when Clarke turns to face her while stifling a giggle.

“You’re so cute.”

“Why?”

“You just are,” she says softly, moving her hand to once again run her fingers through Lexa’s hair, Lexa’s eyes closing as she sways slightly on the grass.

“Hey, Woods!” Murphy calls from the pool, once again floating on his pizza slice. “This would be a great time to ask her out.”

“Ask who out?” Clarke asks, her hands ceasing their movements in brown curls. Lexa turns to face her and, seeing her features set in a deep pout, frowns.

“I’m assuming he means you.”

“He’s telling you to ask me out?”

“I believe so. He has told me to do it before.”

“Why would he tell you to ask me ou—before?”

“Yeah. He’s said it a couple of times, actually.”

“…And why have you not done it?” Lexa’s frown deepens, searching Clarke’s face for a distinguishable emotion.

“Well… do you want me to ask you out?”

“I dunno, do you wanna ask me out?”

“Maybe.”

“…Then maybe I want you to ask me.”

“Okay but,” Lexa pauses, averting her eyes to stare at the grass she finds between her fingers. “What would you say if I _were_ to ask you out?”

“Probably a ‘yes’.”

“Probably?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t do probability, princess,” Lexa slurs, her head becoming heavy and falling back onto Clarke’s hip.

“Fine. Definitely.” Lexa gasps.

“ _Really?!_ ”

“Would you get on with it already, please?” Anya says from the grass behind them, Raven’s head resting in her lap. “We’ve all aged terribly since you guys have ‘reunited’.”

“I feel my life fading away,” Murphy adds wistfully from his pizza. 

Lexa collects herself, lifting her head off Clarke’s hip and sitting up as straight and steady as her heavy head allows, swivelling on the grass to face Clarke.

“Clarke—"

“Yes, I’ll go on a date with you.”

“No no,” Lexa slurs, holding a single finger up to stop Clarke. “I haven’t asked yet.”

“You basically have, Lex.”

“ _No_ ,” Lexa persists, eyes closing. “I need to ask. _Properly._ ”

“Would you and your useless gay ass just accept the yes?” Anya calls, her fingers now delicately running through Raven’s hair. “We’re tired. And Clarke is gonna change her mind if you keep being a dumbass.”

“But I—”

“Accept the yes, Lexi,” Raven mumbles.

“Yeah, accept what Raven can’t get.” Lexa releases a dramatic sigh, letting her head fall onto Clarke’s hip once again and accepts the hand immediately moving through her hair by the girl laughing heartily at Octavia getting wrestled by a protesting Raven, her cries of ‘stop speaking such hurtful truths’ bringing a small smile to Lexa’s lips. 

\----------------------------

After Raven had finally settled back into Anya’s lap after offering to fight each of the delinquents separately, Abby and Jake had appeared at the back door to let them know that spaces had been prepared if they wanted to crash there for the night. 

All the delinquents readily accepted, with Anya and Lincoln taking it upon themselves to also accept the offer on behalf of Lexa after Jake had promised a breakfast ‘that would make the Queen herself sob uncontrollably at it’s beauty and grandeur’.

It was only 11:30 when everyone retreated back into the house, Bellamy and Finn throwing random objects they found at Murphy to wake him up from his nap atop his pizza, and Anya carrying Raven upstairs bridal style so as to not wake her. 

Lexa had been eager to go to sleep, her mind swimming with nothing comprehensible and her forehead showcasing a lovely red mark from it’s time spent leaning against Clarke’s hip, but was somehow convinced to move to the pool chairs with Clarke and stare up blankly at the sky.

“—and that one looks like a dagger, and that one—"

“Clarke,” Lexa slurs as she squints up into the darkness. “they’re just stars.”

“Stars are _everything_ , Lexa.”

“No, their balls of gas millions and millions of miles away from us that have no greater meaning than just… stars.”

“We’re _made_ of _stardust_ , Lex. They’re _everything_.”

“Well, maybe they _were_ everything, but now they’re just gas.”

“You’re just gas.”

“No, I’m alcohol and gas.” Lexa gasps. “I could explode.”

“Just like a star. Just… less pretty.”

“My insides are gorgeous, thank you.”

“You really need to sleep,” Clarke giggles.

“I said that like an hour ago,” Lexa whines, turning her head to look at Clarke on the chair next to hers. “My brain is funny.”

“It’s always been funny, but we’ve accepted you for who you are.” Lexa pouts at Clarke’s laugh, petulantly folding her arms over her chest and returning her gaze back to the sky.

“I wish that dagger wasn’t made of stars. I’d—”

“You’d what, Lex? Grab it by the wrong end and slice your hand open again?” She laughs at Lexa’s deepened pout and furrowed eyebrows. “You’d never use a dagger on me.”

“I wasn’t planning to; I was going to cutting that chair, so you’d fall through it and land on your ass.”

“Yeah, well,” Clarke says, swinging her legs over the side of the chair and standing up carefully. “Maybe next time. C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

Lexa, still frowning, accepts the hand Clarke extends towards her and allows herself to be pulled to her feet, only to wobble slightly and grasp Clarke’s hand tighter.

“You’re mean.”

“And you’re a mess,” Clarke giggles, leaning up to leave a chaste kiss on Lexa’s cheek before leading her back to the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The broccoli thing may or may not be based on a true story inspired by my own complete and utterly hopeless lack of culinary sense.
> 
> Also, if someone has the guts to use Raven's chemistry pick up line, please let me know how it goes. And don't ask me how I came up with it, I haven't even looked at a periodic table in almost four years. 
> 
> Wild how this date took 100k words to get to. Talk about a slow burn, amiright. (Psst, Clarke is frowning when Murphy tells Lexa to ask her out because she thinks she's being told to ask someone else out, because who even likes seeing jealousy written plainly.)
> 
> Come chat on insta, I respond relatively quickly to stuff and I am occasionally good at making friends: @the.unprofessional.writer


	29. Chivalrous Dumbass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First and foremost, I would like to thank everyone for their comments on broccoli last chapter. I feel both humiliated and well informed, thank you. I'll keep y'all updated whenever I decide to eat more than pizza, tim tams, and 2min noodles. 
> 
> 5.8k words for the gays. I hope the baby gays are gay enough for your liking.

Clarke’s eyes squeeze shut at the sudden burst of sunlight that fills her bedroom, groaning as she is bounced around by Raven and Octavia jumping on her bed.

“C’mon, Clarkey! Your dad has his prettiest apron on!"

“We must feast!” Raven says, posing on the bed like a warrior preparing for battle. 

Clarke merely groans, burying her face deeper into her pillow and trying her best to ignore the rocking of her friends as they jump and land to lay down beside her.

“Clarke,” Octavia whispers, her breath hitting Clarke’s ear.

“Clarkey-poo.”

“We demand sustenance.”

“You guys always _demand_ sustenance,” Clarke grumbles into her pillow. “Make your own sustenance.”

“C’mon, Clarke, everyone else is already eating. And Lincoln won’t stop sending me pictures of the food _or_ of your dad.” Clarke groans again, swatting blindly at Octavia when she attempts to roll her off the bed.

“Octavia, please,” Raven says, holding out a hand to stop her. “I know just what will do it.” She clears her throat, testing out some vocal exercises that they had all seen done on TV, and leans close to Clarke’s ear.

“Lexa is shirtless in your kitchen.”

Clarke’s head immediately rises from the pillow, bleary eyes wide and staring off at the wall while Raven and Octavia roll in their laughter.

“I have a date with Lexa.”

“What?” Octavia chokes out, wiping tears from her eyes before rolling into another bout of laughter.

“I have a date with Lexa,” Clarke says again, her eyes still blankly staring at nothing even when Octavia starts choking in her surprise and Raven swats at her arm.

“How the _fuck_ did you get a date with Lexa before _I_ got one with Anya?!”

“Because your pick-up lines suck ass, Raven.”

“Excuse you, O, I’ll have you know that my chemistry one last night made Lexa _cackle_.”

“She huffed, if anything. Don’t flatter yourself—”

“GUYS!” Clarke yells, scrambling to sit up on her bed and grab them both by the wrists to hold their attention. “I’m going on a _date_. With _Lexa_.” 

Octavia and Raven stare blankly at her. 

“And?”

“What do you mean _‘and’_? I have a fucking _date_ with _Lexa!_ ”

“…I still don’t see the problem,” Octavia says, standing up and pulling Raven with her. “C’mon, let’s eat.”

“GUYS! What am I supposed to do?” Clarke frowns when her friends just stare at her with raised eyebrows, gentle smirks settling on their lips.

“I’m gonna suggest that you go on a date with her?” Octavia says, directing her ‘question’ to Raven.

“Yeah, I’m gonna have to agree with that one, O. Not much else one can do when they agree to—you did agree to the date, right?” 

“Of course, I did.”

“Then what’s the issue?”

“I dunno,” Clarke groans, falling backwards onto her pillow. “How did this happen?”

“Well, Murphy yelled at Lexa from the pool and she—”

“I know _how_ it happened, but—” Clarke sighs, shaking her head at Octavia’s grin.

“Clarke,” Octavia tries again, coming to sit next to Clarke on the bed. “You agreed to this date, yes?”

“Yes.”

“And do you want to _go_ on said date?”

“…Yes?”

“That isn’t supposed to be a question, Clarkey,” Raven says from the doorway, not trying in the slightest to hide her eagerness to get downstairs.

“Ugh, fine. Yes.”

“Then what the goddamn frick frack is the issue?” Clarke stares into Octavia’s amused eyes, emotionless as she pushes her out of the way and stands up.

“Since when are you guys logical human beings?” She mutters as she walks to her bathroom and closes the door on their giggles.

\----------------------------

“I wish I was young again,” Anya grumbles when Raven and Octavia practically jump down the stairs, her elbows propped on the dining table and her head heavy in her hands. 

Clarke follows after them, timid in her movements and hyper-aware of the brunette sitting at one head of the table, her hair free from the braids it was in last night and her eyes staring holes into her scrambled eggs, her body as tense as Clarke had ever seen it.

_“Not that I stare at her body, of course…”_

“How old even are you?” Octavia asks, making her way to sit in the vacant seat between Lincoln and Anya.

“Twenty-one.”

“Oh shit, you’re old,” Raven says, sitting opposite Anya and next to Lexa.

“Watch it, pint-sized.” 

Clarke chuckles at the array of emotions dancing across Raven’s face as she squints at Anya over the table. She makes her way around the table and further into the kitchen, smiling at the sight of her father at the stove.

“Is the hat really necessary?”

“Kiddo,” Jake says seriously, turning around with a spatula in one hand and the lid of a pan, held in front of him like a shield, in the other. “What is a chef without his toque?”

“You’re burning bacon and wearing the apron I got you from the Father’s Day stall back in kindergarten,” Clarke says, eyeing the bright pink, flowery chef’s apron.

“And that simply makes me the prettiest chef in this house.”

“Who’s burning the bacon.”

“Yes, who’s burning the bacon.” He turns around, lid first, and attends to the bacon, removing it from the pan and onto a plate before turning around once again with a grin. “Be a lamb and put this on the table for me?”

Clarke laughs, taking the plate from his hand and slapping at his aggressively tall hat. She makes her way back to the table, watching Anya look over her shoulder at her and move to stand up.

“You can have my seat, blondie.” She tries to hide a smile as she walks around the table to sit beside Raven and Lincoln, rolling her eyes at the satisfied smirk that rests on Raven’s lips while she reaches for the bacon and adds it to her already full plate. 

“Where do you even put all that?” Anya asks.

“I can show you, if you’d like.”

“Gross.” Octavia catches the piece of bacon Raven throws at her face, taking a bite of it and ignoring Raven’s pout in favour of continuing her hushed conversation with Lincoln.

“Where’s everyone else?” Clarke asks, moving into the vacated seat.

“Outside. Perks of sleeping on the couches and the floor was being able to eat first,” Anya says, nibbling on some dry toast. 

The six of them eat in a tense silence, occasionally being interrupted by Jake sweeping in to set more food on the table, opting for some cut fruit to ‘balance out the greasy goodness of non-health.’

Clarke feels eyes watching the side of her head as she inhales all the fruit she could reach, glancing to her left only to see a tense Lexa adamantly staring at her empty plate with her hands balled into fists and her eyes as wide as they could possibly be. 

\--------------------------

Breakfast ended when Jake had bestowed his toque upon Clarke. She stared at him blankly and watched a hint of a smile appear on Lexa’s lips from her peripheries as Jake twirled out of the room and up the stairs, shouting down his expectation of a ‘pristine and well-manicured kitchen’.

“How would one ‘manicure’ a kitchen?” Raven had asked, doing her part and drying the cutlery Octavia handed to her.

“I dunno, polish the countertop?”

“Nah, that’d be like a facial.”

“Mop the floor?”

“That’s a pedicure at best.”

“…Clean in the cupboards?”

“That would be a pap smear.”

As the conversation escalated, Clarke had intervened and stole the tea towel from Raven, flicking them way with the tip of the towel until they retreated upstairs and into, Clarke assumed, her bedroom.

The rest of her friends had slowly left, one by one walking out the front door (Finn and Jasper jumping the back fence together and falling in a tangle of limbs and lovable idiocy) and making their respective ways home.

Monty had pleaded Clarke pass on his thanks to her parents, as did Harper and Emori, while Miller silently nodded his thanks as he carried a still passed out Bryan to his parent’s car and Murphy dramatically planted a firm kiss to Clarke’s forehead and asked her to wish her pool well and thank it for the memories. 

Bellamy and Lincoln had wrestled their way out the front door, both yelling their thanks from the bottom of the driveway before Bellamy caught Lincoln in a headlock and, refusing to let go, walked him all the way across the street with his neck under his arm. 

Clarke had shaken her head, eager to hear the reason for their playfulness from Octavia shortly, while Anya had grabbed her by the shoulders and firmly squeezed them, bending close to her ear and muttering a resolute ‘I _will_ hurt you’ and left her with a warning glare and, to Clarke’s confusion, a supportive nod. 

Now, Clarke, her hand on the edge of the door to hold it open, watches as Lexa plays with her own fingers, raising her eyebrows at the pure _fear_ in Lexa’s eyes.

“…Yes?”

“Was it just the alcohol?” Clarke blinks, tilting her head to assess Lexa and her suddenly flushed cheeks.

“What?”

“You saying yes. Was it just the alcohol?” Clarke continues to stare, creased eyebrows suddenly smooth and up in her hairline once realisation hits.

“…No.”

“…Cool.”

“Was you asking just the alcohol?”

“No.”

“…Cool.” They watch each other, awkward and tense and flushed, only broken out of their panicking states by Anya’s voice from the end of the driveway.

“Would you two pick a goddamn time and place so Lexa can let me into her house and I can sleep for the next four days?!” She yells, her head tilted low and her leather jacket from last night draped around her shoulders and over her head to shield her from the midday sun.

Clarke’s eyes dart away from Anya and back to Lexa who, if it were possible, was even more tense, more flushed, and overall just more of a mess than she was previously, hands wrestling with themselves in front of her and eyes glued to her feet. 

“…I’m free tonight?” Clarke offers, bending slightly to try and get Lexa to look at her. Loose brunette curls bounce when her head shoots up and nods aggressively.

“I’ll be over at six.” Clarke releases a soft laugh when Lexa rushes away, turning on her heel and grabbing Anya’s bicep once she reaches the end of the driveway and drags her across the street.

“What a dumbass,” she whispers to herself, closing the door with a gentle click. 

She barely makes it to the first step of the staircase when a hurried knock sounds at the door, a familiar silhouette visible through the glass.

“Yes, Lexa?” She grins at the nervous energy she exudes as she bounces on the balls of her feet and clasps her hands together firmly in front of her.

“Uhh… casual clothes. And keep warm.” And she was leaving again, without a goodbye or an acknowledgement of the amused eyebrow quirked on Clarke’s features. 

\---------------------

“Clarke, I don’t understand why you keep agreeing to this if you’re just gonna freak out every time you do.”

“…So, Lincoln and Bellamy, huh? What’s with them being all chummy?”

“I dunno, don’t change the topic.” Clarke sighs loudly.

“You don’t understand, O, what am I supposed—”

“You’re supposed to go on a date with Lexa, fall madly in love, move in together, get a cute puppy to name something stupid and fawn over, get married and, most importantly, take over the world with your love and superior gayness.”

“Also kiss her a buttload.”

“Ohh, yeah,” Octavia nods enthusiastically at Raven from her place on Clarke’s floor, her back leaning against the bed. “Her lips look super soft.”

“So supple,” Raven murmurs, once again upside down on Clarke’s bed, her head resting right next to Octavia’s. “Let me know how it is.”

“Oi, back away from Clarke’s girl.”

“I require affection. Second-hand will have to do.”

“I thought you were betting your life savings on kissing Anya this weekend?”

“The weekend is yet to be over.”

“Guys,” Clarke groans, slumped in her desk chair and staring holes into the ceiling. “Can we _please_ stop talking about Lexa’s lips? I have bigger problems here.”

“Yeah, like how chapped yours are gonna be after tonight.” Raven wiggles her eyebrows.

“Raven, your head looks like it’s about to burst,” Octavia says, frowning at the flush of Raven’s face and the veins making themselves known on her forehead. 

“That’s the sacrifice one must make to be the ultimate upside-down queen of the queers.” 

“Guys! _Please_.” Clarke stands from her chair and drops herself down, cross-legged, in front of her friends, eyeing Octavia’s raised eyebrows and Raven’s straining blood vessels. “What do I do?” Raven sighs dramatically, lifting herself up and situating herself upright, pausing for a moment as all the blood rushes from her head, and scoots down to sit next to Octavia and in front of Clarke.

“Lexa asked you, right?”

“Yeah?”

“What exactly did she say?”

“You were there last night, she—”

“Yeah yeah, but this morning. How did it go down?” Clarke huffs out a breath, desperately trying to hide the affectionate smile she feels pulling at the corners of her mouth at the thought of Lexa at her door this morning. 

“She asked if it was just the alcohol and I asked her the same. We established it was not, and then Anya yelled at us to pick a day, I said I was free tonight, Lexa said she will be over at 6. Then, she left, came back like five seconds later to tell me to wear something casual and to keep warm.” She stares expectantly at her friends, who both opt for wearing matching smirks at the faint blush colouring Clarke’s cheeks. 

“That’s adorable,” Octavia drawls.

“Pure romance,” Raven joins.

“In a useless kind of way.”

“The _most_ useless kind of way.”

“The lesbian way.”

“On Lexa’s end anyway.”

“I totally picked her for being the useless type—”

“ _Guys_ ,” Clarke groans, letting her head fall into her hands. “What do I _do_?”

“You dress casual,” Octavia begins.

“And keep warm,” Raven adds.

“And follow the useless lesbian’s lead.”

\-------------------------

“This is fine this is fine this is fine this is fine this is fine this is fine this is fine this is—”

“Kiddo, your muttering is bringing in it’s own draft.”

“Dad,” Clarke turns swiftly on her heel and points at Jake. “This is fine.”

“So I’ve heard.” He hides a grin and approaches Clarke at the foot of the stairs where she continues to pace. “What’s wrong.”

“You _know_ what’s wrong.”

“I don’t actually. Lexa is a delight.”

“Yeah, but what if—”

“And you followed her instructions of keeping casual and staying warm.”

“Am I _too_ casual?!” Clarke’s eyes widen and her face pales, even as Jake releases a chuckle and places her hands on her shoulders.

“Kiddo,” he says, “this is fine.” Clarke releases her breath and nods, reaching down to fidget with the hem of her newest, baby-blue jumper. “Now, put on your shoes, I’m sure she will be punctual.” 

Jake leaves her to tie her Converses with trembling fingers with gentle kiss to the top of her head and a final squeeze to her shoulders.

_“This is fine.”_

A knock at the door makes her jump, her mind on autopilot as she feels her feet move towards the door. 

_“This is NOT fine. Abort, I repeat, abort—”_

“Oh, hey, Lexa.”

“Clarke.” It was choked and sounded like there were too many ‘k’s. “You only have one shoe tied.”

“How did you notice that so fast?”

“I was making sure you were dressed warm.”

“Of course you were.” I’ve never found leather jackets to be very warm though,” Clarke says, eyeing the jacket Lexa wears over what appears to be a thin white t-shirt.

“This one has wool inside.”

“Oh, fancy.” Clarke bends to tie her right shoe, flicking a glance at her watch as she does so. “You’re insanely on time.”

“I like to be punctual.”

“Were you waiting outside to make it so?” Clarke stands again, smirking at the deep blush that colours Lexa’s cheeks as she clears her throat and stands aside, vaguely gesturing for Clarke to go first.

“We should go.”

“Are we on a strict schedule?”

“Kinda. C’mon, the heater is already on in the car.”

“We’re taking the car? I thought you were still working on it.”

“It’s been done for a while; I just prefer the bike. It’s cold now, though and… y’know.”

“What?”

“A car is just… _better_. For this.” Clarke laughs. They cross the empty road to Lexa’s driveway, the ute humming just outside the closed garage door.

“What are you talking about Lexa? I’ve ridden on the back of your bike dozens of times.”

“Yeah, well… shut up. You’re making it very hard to appear chivalrous.” Lexa, somewhat begrudgingly, holds open the passenger seat door, and Clarke does her best not to giggle at the pout that she wears.

“You’re very chivalrous, Lexa.”

“Whatever,” she mumbles, closing the door gently and walking around to the driver’s side.

“Where are we going?”

“Have a guess,” Lexa says, putting the ute into gear and making her way onto the road.

“The movies?”

“Cliché.”

“A restaurant?”

“Cliché.”

“Lexa, everything is a cliché. That’s why they’re clichés. Because they’re _popular_ and _common_.”

“Maybe I don’t wanna be popular and common.”

“Well, you’re already pretty successful if those are your goals.” Clarke stares at the road ahead, supressing a smile at the quick glare she knows Lexa sends her way. 

The rest of the drive is made in silence, broken only by Clarke’s groan when they pull to a stop in front of a familiar building.

“Lexa, I am _not_ working out tonight. I did my suffering yesterday and that’s all we agreed on—”

“Relax, princess, I’m not going to make you _move_ ,” Lexa says, turning off the engine and sliding out of her seat. Clarke is too busy glaring at the entrance of Lexa’s gym to laugh at the hurried walk Lexa does around the front of the car to reach her door, opening it with a small, satisfied smile. 

Clarke gets out of the ute, albeit reluctantly, and narrows her eyes at Lexa, earning herself an annoyed huff and eyeroll.

“This is the only place I know we’ll be safe, okay? And I also still know nothing about this town. You weren’t wrong about me existing in only four places.”

“Three.”

“You seem to once again be forgetting that I live, rent free, in your thoughts.”

“How are you simultaneously the dorkiest _and_ cockiest human I know?”

“It’s called range, now c’mon, I need to make sure my roof hasn’t caught on fire.”

“Your roof?” Clarke, perplexed, follows Lexa not to the entrance of the gym, but around to the side. “Why would your roof be on fire?”

“Because I left the heaters on up there and I don’t have the best of luck when it comes to fire.”

“That’s new information.”

“Yes, well, I tend to avoid fire and fire related items. I also left the ladder down, so who knows what’s up there.”

“Y’know, I’m starting to think you don’t plan dates very often.”

“Shhh… now get your butt up the ladder.” Clarke, chuckling, follows her instruction and slowly makes her way up the ladder, the steel cold and sharp against her bare hands.

She pauses when she reaches the top, pulling herself over the edge and standing just in front of the ladder, gaping at the intimate setting that Lexa had created on her roof.

“Clarke, you’re gonna have to move if you want me on the roof too.”

“Oh, sorry,” Clarke says, side stepping so that Lexa can stand next to her and watch her with vulnerable green eyes. 

“It’s not much, but I thought it would be quiet and—”

“It’s perfect, Lex,” Clarke breathes, reaching a hand to rest on Lexa’s forearm to cease her finger’s wrestling. “How long did this take?”

“Most of the day,” Lexa whispers, her head low as she waits for more of Clarke’s reaction. 

Clarke finally peels her eyes away from the scene before her and locks eyes with Lexa, soft and vulnerable and _green_. She sucks her lips into her mouth, tracing Lexa’s nervous features and settling on her lips.

_“They are supple.”_

She is broken out of her reverie by Lexa’s phone chiming, feeling her jump where her palm still rests on her forearm.

“I hope you’re okay with pizza, because it’s the only place I know is good and the owner doesn’t hate me, so…” Clarke smiles.

“Pizza is perfect, Lex.” Lexa nods and awkwardly hovers at the top of the ladder, leaving her with a soft ‘I’ll be right back’ and making her way back down to the street.

Clarke sighs, making her way further onto the roof and letting herself smile broadly at the effort Lexa had put into tonight.

She had never been on the roof, and she swears to herself that she was going to scold Lexa later for keeping the view from her. The composition of the sky, with the setting sun sitting low on the horizon sending strokes of pinks and oranges and purples overhead, was in itself enough to leave Clarke breathless, but the carefully designed space before her was what had her smiling from ear to ear. 

A path had been marked with fairy lights, laying loosely on the ground and beginning at the top of the ladder, beckoning her in towards the centre of the roof and into a large, bright circle where a small table stood.

The table, adorned with a red and white checkered tablecloth, was decorated with a small vase holding a single red rose and two lit tealights on either side, illuminating the rose and making the light dance across the glass holding it. The miss-matched lawn chairs that sit at opposite sides look as though they had been wiped down, and the chipped legs of the table appear as though they were roughly varnished just hours ago.

Two outdoor heaters stood tall near each chair, their warmth drawing Clarke in even closer to admire the delicacy of the scene and the meticulously prepared cutlery and glasses of water also perched upon the table. 

A loud clang had Clarke spinning around, dazed and unprepared to see Lexa kneeling over the side of the roof to, Clarke assumes, hoist the ladder back up.

“That was fast,” she breathes, heart pounding and eyes still wide as they watch Lexa right herself, two pizza boxes cradled in her hands.

“Perks of being friends with the pizza guy. And the place also being, like, three doors down.”

“How much pizza must you eat to have that guy _like_ you? He doesn’t even remember my name.”

“Well, obviously, I’m just significantly more charming than you are.” She flashes a small smile at Clarke, walking around her to set the boxes on the table. 

“Can I ask why the cutlery?”

“Hmm?”

“Why did you set up cutlery if we’re having pizza?”

“Oh, I dunno. Lincoln’s mom always had us eat pizza with a knife and fork… I guess it’s just habit.”

“I am not at all surprised that you would eat pizza, out of a box, with _cutlery_.”

“It’s called balance, princess,” Lexa says, twisting her face into a look of mock spite, “and it’s a talent.”

“Uh huh, whatever.” Clarke reaches to pull out the chair closest to her, freezing when Lexa makes a grunt of protest and practically jumps around the table to pull the chair out for her, blushing a deep red at the raised eyebrows she is met with.

“What?”

“You’re a nerd.”

“I’m _chivalrous_.”

“A _nerd_ ,” Clarke giggles, taking her seat and opening the box Lexa had placed in front of her. “How’d you know I like cheese and olives?” Lexa stills, her knife and fork poised above her pepperoni pizza and her eyes glued to the centre of the table.

“A lucky guess?”

“No one would ever guess plain cheese with olives, Lex.”

“That’s true, have some extravagancy, please.”

“How did you know, Lexa?” She laughs, grabbing a slice and taking a bite, chewing as she watches Lexa blush once more, daintily cutting a bite sized piece of pizza from her slice and bringing it to her lips.

“I asked Octavia,” she mumbles, barely audible.

“Sorry?” Lexa sighs, dropping her fork low in defeat.

“I asked Octavia.”

“You asked Octavia?”

“Well, I asked Lincoln to ask her, and then I asked him to tell her I’ll beat her up if she lies to me, and then Raven got involved somehow so then Anya was there, and it was like a fifteen minute ordeal all to find out what kind of weird ass pizza you like to eat.”

Clarke stares across the table, her head cocked to the side and a gentle smile resting on her lips.

“Y’know, you could have just asked _me_.”

“Well, that would have… not been what I wanted to do.”

“And what is it you wanted to do, exactly?”

“I dunno,” Lexa dips her head, finally eating some of her pizza. “But did it work?” Clarke laughs, bringing her pizza to her lips again.

“Yeah, it worked.”

\---------------------------

Clarke came to the realisation early in the evening that conversation with Lexa had always seemed to come _easy_. Even though majority of that conversation was filled with bitterness, anger, and hatred, Clarke could never recall a moment with Lexa where they weren’t able to turn a simple comment into a thirty second discussion, potentially on how Lexa was actually a huge, soft nerd, or how Clarke was a princess trapped in the body of an unruly peasant.

Clarke’s focus wavered when this realisation hit, their discussion as to the likelihood of Raven successfully wooing Anya (“It’s like a chihuahua and a rottweiler dating, Clarke, so as much as I would love to see it, Raven doesn’t stand a chance…unless she discovers Anya’s _weakness_.”) coming to an abrupt stop.

“Clarke?”

“Hmm?”

“You okay?”

“Mhmm.”

“…It’s your turn to be a smartass,” Lexa whispers across the table, leaning over her pizza to assess the misty haze covering Clarke’s eyes.

“I think a chihuahua and a rottweiler would make an _adorable_ couple.”

“Clarke, the size difference alone…”

\--------------------------------

Clarke had grinned at the puff of Lexa’s chest after she had complimented her attention to detail and her apparent eye for rooftop design, and had giggled at the reoccurring deep blush on Lexa’s cheeks every time she had (not so casually) brought up that this was, in fact, their first date.

“So… you’re saying there could be another one?”

“Depending on what else you have planned for tonight.” Lexa nodded, accepting the challenge subtly posed and turning to rummage in a cane box that Clarke hadn’t noticed sitting just behind Lexa’s seat.

She whips back around, a colourful box in one hand, and quickly discards the empty pizza boxes by dropping them onto the floor to her left, blowing out the tealights and moving them and the vase to the floor as well. She drops the box on the table, eyes alight with child-like glee and excitement.

“That’s Monopoly.”

“It is Monopoly.” Clarke huffs out a short laugh.

“And why Monopoly?”

“Because I’m going to impress you with my mad Monopoly skills,” Lexa says, hands moving to set up the board and shuffle cards, fingers deftly arranging everything to their assigned positions.

“Monopoly skills, huh?” Clarke says, eyebrow raised. “And how did one develop such ‘skills’?”

“It was the only game we had in the orphanage,” Lexa says, the casual reflection on her past the first Clarke had seen that didn’t involve anger or spite. “I think I played it almost every day I was there, so for like… six months, I was the reigning Monopoly queen.”

“Of course you were,” Clarke chuckles, shaking her head fondly at the happy little smile Lexa wears as she explains why she is, and always will be, the shoe.

\---------------------------

“That is the fastest game of Monopoly I have ever played,” Clarke sighs, slumping low in her chair as Lexa wiggles high in her seat.

“I told you I’d impress you with my mad Monopoly skills.”

“Bold of you to assume I could be so easily impressed.”

“And bold of _you_ to assume that I wouldn’t know by now that nearly _everything_ impresses you, princess.”

“Not _everything_ , thank you.” Clarke rises to her feet, lifting her hands above her head in a spine popping stretch.

She looks over the roof, admiring the brightness of the moon and how well it illuminates the tips of the trees of the park in the distance, and loving the way the stars reflect in Lexa’s eyes when she comes to stand next to her.

“Is there uh… anything else you wanted to do? Or do you want me to take you home?” Clarke traces the features of the girl next to her, feeling her heart pull at the idea of leaving Lexa so soon (much to her surprise and mild concern).

“Come sit with me,” she whispers, grabbing Lexa’s hand and leading her to the edge of the roof. They sit with their feet dangling over the edge, shoulders pressed together, and gazes set on the horizon before them, a comfortable silence settling over them.

“Do you think much about the future?” Clarke asks, eyes locked ahead of her, even when she feels green eyes turn to watch her.

“Of course.”

“What do you think it has in store?”

“…For us?”

“For everything,” Clarke says, soft gaze finally landing on Lexa’s furrowed eyebrows. 

Blue and green dance in uncertainty, bodies violently still and minds racing with the possible answers and outcomes of the question.

“Raven and I have this… ongoing struggle,” Clarke continues, allowing Lexa to take in a breath and look once more across the town. “I mean, Raven probably more so than me, but… she’s gotten me thinking. And panicking.”

“Why?”

“Because what if what we _think_ is going to happen… doesn’t?”

“Well… it probably won’t,” Lexa says, eyes returning to concerned features. “But… that doesn’t mean it won’t still be good.” Clarke huffs out a laugh.

“Look at you, being all optimistic.”

“It’s my wisdom, actually,” she says, one side of her mouth quirked ever so slightly. “Experience.”

“…You think life has been good?”

“Up and down. A lot more ups recently, though. And I think that’s what makes them better.”

“What?”

“The wait,” she breathes. “The journey. Being able to look back and _see_ how much has changed, and how much _can_ change in such a short amount of time.”

“Like Aden?”

“Like Aden.”

“And the delinquents?”

“Yes,” Lexa laughs, “and the delinquents.”

“And me… right?” Clarke’s heart pounds at the back of her throat, her eyes flickering across Lexa’s features, waiting for them to harden or soften or break. Clarke shifts along the edge of the roof, waiting in agony for the eternity to end and for Lexa to say something. 

Or maybe at least do more than just stare at her lips. 

But how can Clarke complain when she herself has Raven’s voice in the back of her mind to encourage her to seek out the ‘supple’ lips of the brunette drifting closer to her as the seconds tick by.

Or as she herself, forgetting to breathe, drifts towards Lexa, too, blinking stupidly at the barely audible “and you” that slips between Lexa’s lips just before they connect with hers, soft and delicate and shy. 

Though their first kisses all those weeks ago were just as soft, this kiss was _different_. The uncertainty was gone, replaced with a comforting weight that rests lightly within Clarke’s chest, her heart beating faster to accommodate for the extra pressure.

Clarke supresses a giggle at the tension of Lexa’s body when Clarke pulls away slightly, only to melt back into the kiss at a new angle, sighing softly against her cheek with her hands still resting limply in her lap. 

“You’re still a pain in my ass, though,” Lexa mutters against her lips.

“And you’re still a dumbass,” Clarke replies, smiling into the kiss and reaching her hand up to rest delicately on Lexa’s jaw.

“Yet here you are.”

“Here I am.”

\---------------------------------

“You don’t have to walk me to my door, Lex.”

“Yes, I do. I need to be—”

“Chivalrous, yes, sorry. How could I possibly forget,” Clarke laughs, bringing her hand up to wrap her fingers around Lexa’s jaw and swipe her thumb gently across the pout that she wears. “Thank you.”

“For being so chivalrous?”

“For the date, dumbass.”

“Oh,” Lexa blushes, “yeah…” 

“And also for the chivalry, I guess.”

“It’s my defining quality.”

“No, that would be your dumbassery. And nerdiness.”

“Easy, princess.”

Clarke’s hand drops from her jaw and rests atop her shoulder, bringing herself closer to Lexa so that she has to tilt her head slightly to look her in the eyes.

“I still don’t have your phone number.”

“I’ll give it to you tomorrow at school.”

“Why not now?” She asks, stepping back to assess the sudden fear in Lexa’s eyes.

“Because I’m pretty sure your parents are just on the other side of the door.”

Clarke turns and, sure enough, the faint silhouettes of her parents sitting at the foot of the stairs could be seen through the glass panels.

“Ugh, fine,” Clarke groans, dropping her hand completely from Lexa’s shoulder and rolling her eyes fondly at the space Lexa puts between them as she continues to stare at the door. “Can I have a goodnight kiss, though?”

Clarke would have laughed at the rollercoaster of emotions that flash through Lexa’s eyes, from the way they lit up and then immediately widened in terror, to then become the hardened gaze of a determined soldier willing to risk it all for this chance. But she chooses instead to smile and accept the most chaste kiss, the soft pressure of Lexa’s lips against hers gone too soon for her liking, and the girl in front of her backing away all to quickly with one final wave and proud little smile. 

“Dumbass,” she whispers to herself, turning to unlock the already opened door and jumping out of her skin at the giddy faces of her parents, snug in their robes, staring back at her.

“Soooo,” Jake says, bringing a cup of tea to his lips and taking an exaggerated sip. “I assume we will be seeing more of your _chivalrous dumbass_ after tonight, hmm?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now wouldja LOOK at that character development *chef's kiss*


	30. 'Lexa' Would Do Just Fine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm back. 
> 
> Hopefully.
> 
> Apologies for the absence, life has had its complications and writing became mighty difficult. Here is a short peace offering. It's a bit of a filler, but it's relevant filler.
> 
> Hope ya'll enjoy

As promised, Lexa had given Clarke her number first thing in homeroom the next morning, shyly asking for her phone and handing it back, scowling ever so slightly when she saw Clarke immediately change her name to ‘Dumbass’.

“Y’know, ‘Lexa’ would do just fine,” she had said.

“Well,” Clarke had smiled, looking up at Lexa from her seat and pocketing her phone, “maybe one day I’ll add a heart next to it, how about that?” 

Lexa wasn’t able to argue and failed at hiding her blush under her purple hood, finally taking the seat next to Clarke and accepting the soft squeeze to her hand that Clarke gave in place of what Lexa hoped was supposed to be a kiss.

School continued as normal, homeroom being the only place on campus that they would be seen so close together. Lexa kept her distance under the scrutinising eyes of their peers, though would stifle a giddy smile whenever Clarke would make a detour in the halls to pass by her and squeeze whichever hand was closest to her at the time. 

Monday passed, and so did Tuesday, with nothing special apart from the pouty texts Lexa would receive from Clarke, locked away in her bedroom and trying to study for exams.

Lexa had offered to help her study, or to at least provide her with some company and moral support but, to her disappointment, Clarke had declined with “reasons” being her only answer to Lexa’s questioning of why.

On Wednesday, Lexa decided that she would tell her friends about her and Clarke, not wanting to say too much with them only being together for barely three days, but also far too keen to share her excitement.

And maybe also give a subtle ‘fuck you’ to Niylah.

But, with two matching frowns on both Bellamy’s and Murphy’s face as they waited in line at the cafeteria, Lexa had decided against it.

“Trust us, Lex,” Bellamy had said. “Girls like having their little secrets.” 

“Yeah,” Murphy added, staring intently at the menu ahead. “Trust us, the single ‘bro’ and the guy who, to this day, doesn’t know how exactly his first and only relationship started.”

To her knowledge, no one suspected anything between her and Clarke. That is, of course, excluding the delinquents who, in their excitement and general playful idiocy, would either make progressively more explicit noises whenever they passed her or, to the confusion of the rest of their cohort, would yell for her attention at an opposite end of a hall and give her an exaggerated wink and nothing more. 

Thursday had provided Lexa and Clarke with a first. 

Lexa had offered to drop Clarke home after school, leaning against the side of her ute as she waited for her to finish cleaning up her space in the dedicated senior’s art classroom. 

Scrolling mindlessly through her phone, a quick flash of blonde appeared in her vision before it was gone again, nestled in the crook of her neck. Phone held loosely in her hand, both of which were awkwardly hanging out to the side, she tried to crane her neck to look at Clarke, but to no avail.

“Uhh, Clarke?”

“Hmm?”

“…You good?”

“I can’t wait for exams to be over.” Confused, Lexa placed her hands gently on Clarke’s hips and pushed her back, causing Clarke to step away and look up at her with furrowed eyebrows.

“Did something happen during art?”

“I hate art.”

“No, you don’t.”

“The paint doesn’t do what I tell it to do.” Lexa smiled softly, this time pulling Clarke in by the hips and wrapping her arms around her waist, resting her cheek against Clarke’s temple once she had nestled her head back into her neck.

“Maybe it just wasn’t having a good day. Let it rest, it will do what it’s supposed to tomorrow.” Clarke hummed, Lexa feeling her body relax against hers against her ute in the almost empty parking lot.

“We’ve never hugged before.”

“Hmm?”

“We’ve never hugged before,” Clarke repeated into Lexa’s neck.

“Oh…”

“It’s nice. You give nice hugs.”

Lexa had thought about that for the rest of the day and most of Friday, though her focus on that comment wavered when she was sat with the delinquents in the park, once again huddled together at a table and eating hot chips.

Raven had been whining about something that Lexa hadn’t been paying attention to, opting for having a hushed conversation with Clarke about the origin of the hot chip.

“Lexa, can you talk to her for Raven please? So she can shut up?”

“Hmm?” Lexa turned to Octavia, eyebrow raised at the unimpressed frown she wore.

“To Anya. Can you talk to her please?”

“About what?”

“She was busy talking to her girl, O,” Murphy mumbled around a mouthful of chips.

“Yeah, her priorities weren’t on Raven’s desperation,” Harper said from the other end of the table, laughing when Raven threw a chip at her.

“Yeah, because Clarke got _her_ brooding lesbian, so they can just be all _gay_ and cute and, and… and _gay_.” Lexa had turned to a giggling Clarke in hopes of some answers, but her attention was brought back to Raven for another rant.

“I bet my goddamn life savings that I would kiss that lean piece of goddess ass before the weekend was over, and it’s been a whole _week_ and I _still_ can’t even get her to _talk_ to me or—”

“That’s because you don’t have her number—”

“— _look_ at me or call me anything other than _pint-sized_ and I am _bitter_.” 

The table had fallen silent, all of the delinquents looking at each other with hints of amusement buried within their concern.

“So, where did your life savings actually go?” Monty asked.

“I had to give it to Octavia,” Raven mumbled, head now buried in her arms atop the table.

“Ayyyee, nice one, O,” Jasper went to give Octavia a high five, to which she had shrugged.

“It was only twenty-three dollars. It really wasn’t worth her whining.”

Clarke had been particularly pouty during their training session on Saturday, her eyes focused somewhere other than on the inflatable sticks Lexa was steadily whacking her with. 

“I thought you’d be nicer with this now,” Clarke had muttered during a short break.

“What do you mean? Why?”

“Because we’re dating, dumbass.”

“Oh,” Lexa blinked, sticks hanging loosely by her sides. “But… I still need to teach you to defend yourself.”

“Well, if anyone comes at me with two inflatable sticks, I think I’ll be sorted.”

“That’s not what this is doing, Clarke—”

“I know, I just… don’t like moving, Lexa,” Clarke whined. Lexa had stared, unable to think of what could motivate Clarke, because goddammit she was going to make sure she could handle herself if need be.

“We have to keep going, Clarke.”

“ _Lexaaaa_ ,” she whined again, dragging her feet over to where Lexa stood and dropping her weight against her, her face nestled in the crook of Lexa’s neck. 

“I have to make sure you can take care of yourself, Clarke.”

“I thought that’s what I have you for?” Lexa had paused.

“I’m not gonna be with you every minute of every day though, Clarke, and there are a lot of shitty people out there. Especially in this town.” Clarke groaned. “C’mon, only a little bit more and then I’ll make you some breakfast.”

“I thought you didn’t know how to cook,” Clarke mumbled into Lexa’s jumper.

“I wouldn’t have gotten very far if I couldn’t make scrambled eggs now, would I?”

“I don’t believe you know how to even use a stove.”

“Alright, princess,” Lexa chuckled, pushing Clarke by her hips and bringing the sticks back in front of her. “You really shouldn’t insult the person holding the inflatable sticks.”

“And you shouldn’t annoy the person that gives you kisses.” 

Lexa hadn’t had a comeback for that and had instead opted for accepting the firm peck on her cheek and the knowledge that they weren’t going to be training anymore that day.

\-----------------------

“Lexa?”

“Hmm?”

“We’ve been trying to talk to you for, like, five minutes.” Lexa looks up from the mac and cheese sitting in front of her in the cafeteria on the gloomy Monday morning and locks eyes with Luna, staring at her from across the table. “You okay? You’ve been… _distant_ lately.”

“Oh, uhh,” Lexa pauses, taking her fork to push around the food in front of her while she thinks about whether or not she should tell her friends about Clarke. “Things have just been, uh… on my mind.”

“Such as?” Echo asks from between Luna and Niylah, eating from the plate sitting on her crossed legs.

Lexa stares dumbly, regretting not having asked Clarke whether it was okay for her to tell people about them.

_“It’s only been a week… but, then again, it’s not like there hasn’t been some well-known… drama. Plus, the delinquents are all privy to it, so why not my friends, too?”_

“Lexaaaa,” Luna sings, reaching over to poke Lexa with the other end of her fork. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” she says quickly, opening her mouth to try and change the topic when Clarke appears distantly behind Luna, doing nothing more than walking by with Harper and Monty.

From the corner of her eye, she sees Luna frown, while Roan and Nyko both lift their heads from their food and spot the girl Lexa’s gaze remains fixated on.

“Ohhhhhh,” they say in unison, turning to a wide-eyed Lexa and wiggling their eyebrows.

“What?” Lexa asks, her eyes shooting back down to her mac and cheese.

“Lexa’s got the _feels_ ,” Roan teases, nudging Lexa with his elbow. Nyko releases a quiet wolf-whistle, giggling to himself when Lexa shoots him a glare. 

“Ohh, what’s happened?” Echo asks, attention briefly taken away from her food. “For whoooo?”

Lexa rolls her eyes, hyper aware of the intense curiosity in Luna’s eyes as she watches her and of Niylah’s burning glare on the side of her head.

“It’s, uhh… it’s nothing.”

“Pfft,” Roan huffs, dropping his fork dramatically and turning his whole body towards Lexa. “Your cheeks don’t go that red about ‘nothing’, Lex.” Lexa hides her face in her hands and groans while conversation builds around her.

“Is it Clarke?” Echo asks. “Please tell me it’s Clarke.”

“It’s totally Clarke,” Nyko nods enthusiastically. 

“That enemies to lovers trope really does it for me,” Echo hums, shovelling some more mac and cheese in her mouth mid-sentence.

“It does it for everyone,” Roan nods, poking Lexa with his fork and grinning at her glare. “Tell us about Clarke.”

“No.”

“But it _is_ Clarke, right?” Nyko smirks, pointing his fork at her.

“I really wish for you guys to stop,” Lexa mumbles into her hands.

“It’s Clarke.”

“Definitely Clarke,” Echo agrees.

“I thought you guys hated each other?” Niylah says from the end of the table, finally contributing to the conversation.

“That’s the whole point of enemies to lovers, Niy, pay attention,” Echo nudges her, eagerly awaiting Lexa’s confirmation.

“How, uh… how long have you guys been…?” Luna asks, quiet and timid across the table.

Lexa heaves a sigh, folding her arms across the table and avoiding everyone’s eyes.

“A week.”

“A week? _Dating?!_ ”

“Grammar is important, Nyko,” Niylah mutters, returning her attention to her lunch.

“Yes,” Lexa concedes, “dating.”

“ _YESSSS!_ ” Roan squeals, grabbing Lexa by the shoulders and shaking her around. “Our Lex has got game.”

“And abs. Don’t forget the abs,” Echo grins, sending an encouraging nod to a furiously blushing Lexa.

“And abs!” Roan continues, Nyko pointing across him to somewhere behind Lexa.

“Do you guys know?” Lexa turns and groans when she spots Raven and Octavia changing direction and heading their way.

“About what?” Octavia asks, cheeky grins steadily growing on both of their faces.

“About this one and Clarke?” Roan says, shaking Lexa once more.

“How fucking _useless_ are they?!” Raven says, her and Octavia leaning over Lexa to ‘celebrate’ with Roan and Nyko, Lexa lifting her hands once more to hide her face and groan.

\------------------------

Having endured the rest of the day with Nyko, Roan, and Echo steadily getting braver with their jests and comments, Lexa found herself sitting on the floor in Clarke’s bedroom, textbooks scattered around them as they study for their upcoming exams.

After asking Clarke on and off for the last week if she wanted company, or even some help, while she studied, Clarke had finally agreed, though made sure to tell her that she ‘had been warned’.

Lexa had shrugged off the comment, attributing it to Clarke being Clarke and making her way across the street.

However, now that she was sat on the floor in a nest of pillows, steadily taking notes and answering practice questions, she understood what Clarke had meant.

“Yes, Clarke?” She finally sighs, having successfully ignored the incessant poking of her arm from Clarke, who was sprawled across the pillows in such a way that made Lexa worry for her back.

“What are you doing for winter break?”

“What do you mean?” Clarke huffs, taking the effort to situate herself upright, practically sitting in Lexa’s lap amongst the pillows.

“Winter break. Christmas. New Years. All the fun stuff that gets us out of school for a little while.”

“Oh, uhh… I’m picking up Aden on the 26th and we’re having a little Christmas thing.”

“That sounds cute,” Clarke hums, reaching into Lexa’s lap to grab her hand and play with her fingers.

“You’re welcome to join us.”

“Hmm?”

“Aden wanted to know if you’ll be there too… I said I would ask.”

“I don’t want to intrude, Lex—”

“You wouldn’t be, honest. I’m pretty sure Aden likes you more than he likes me, so…” She grins at the quiet giggle that escapes Clarke’s lips, linking her hand more firmly with Clarke’s to cease her fidgeting. 

“He doesn’t, he just likes how easily he can embarrass you when I’m around.”

“Which translates to him liking you a buttload, yes.” Clarke giggles again.

“I’d love to. Provided you let me cook for you guys.”

“You act as if I would fight you for that job. Aden had to teach me how to prepare broccoli, remember?”

“I do remember. I also remember the delinquents all throwing in their opinions, too. And that I told you broccoli is actually best steamed.”

“Great, so you can steam some broccoli and call it dinner.”

“You’re a dumbass,” Clarke breathes, leaning in close with a small smile dancing across her lips.

“Yes, and one day… I’ll be a dumbass with a heart next to it.”

“Of course,” Clarke whispers, bringing her hand up to Lexa’s jaw and pulling her lips to hers, smiling into a delicate kiss.

“What are _you_ doing over break?” Lexa mumbles against her lips, causing Clarke to pull away with a short chuckle.

“I was gonna ask if you wanted to come over on Christmas Eve. I usually host a little movie night with the delinquents.”

“That sounds wholesome.”

“It’s about as wholesome as the delinquents get.”

“Well then, how could I possibly pass up on that opportunity?”

“Yeah, well,” Clarke grins, shifting closer to Lexa still. “They’re definitely gonna make fun of us, so don’t expect too much.”

“I thought that was a given?”

“Yes, but we will be cuddling, so they’ll bring their A game.” Lexa releases a dramatic gasp.

“ _Cuddling?_ On _Christmas Eve?_ ” Lexa tilts her head at the husky chuckle that escapes Clarke’s lips, staring intently at the smile that pulls at them. 

“You’re a dumbass,” Clarke repeats, pulling Lexa in for another, deeper kiss. 

“Is this also why you kept saying no to study sessions?” Lexa murmurs between kisses.

“Mhmm.”

“So, you’ve been depriving me?”

“I’ve been _helping_ you.”

“I don’t believe you.” Lexa freezes when Clarke suddenly moves, swinging her leg over Lexa’s hips to sit in her lap. She stares up at Clarke, her hands hovering over her waist, uncertain.

“You’ll believe me when you get good marks on your exam”—she grabs Lexa’s hands and places them on her waist— “because you were focused and actually studied.”

“Yeah, but… kisses.” Clarke grins, leaning down with a soft shake of her head and a barely whispered ‘dumbass’, textbooks ignored and exams forgotten for a little too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Return of the broccoli: and entire ass saga. Please leave more broccoli opinions.
> 
> Good news: I've outlined the rest of the story and set myself a deadline. That being said, I am quite the master at not listening to what I've been told to do, even when the person doing the telling is me. 
> 
> If ya'll wanna know how the writing is going with that deadline and all, I'll (hopefully) be posting more on my insta, including random updates and tidbits of the story. I also reply to messages so the questions that I forget to reply to in the comments can be answered over there: @the.unprofessional.writer
> 
> Much love, and here's to hoping I follow through with all of this.


	31. A Bizarre Lack of Luck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I present 4.4k words of fluff. Because we all deserve a little fluff.
> 
> Also, it's been a whole year of writing this story. How wild... I sure am taking my sweet ass time.

The two weeks leading up to exams pass in a blur of buffoonery, dumbassery, and complete and utter hopelessness. 

Though easily blamed on the effects of locking themselves away for hours on end to study, the conversations between Clarke and her fellow delinquents quickly spiralled further into the realm of ludicrous. 

From heated debates as to the origin of the hoodie and the mechanics of the propeller cap, to arguments extending from the topics of forgotten childhoods and everyone’s favourite middle aged actress, it was the constant discussions about the technicalities of Clarke’s relationship that left them shrieking into the pit of absurdity.

“I’m telling you, for the fifth and final time, that Lexa would _not_ be the big spoon,” Raven says, head held heavily in her hands.

“She’s a badass, boxer, biker chick, how _wouldn’t_ she be the big spoon?” Jasper fires back from the other side of the circle of delinquents.

“Because she is _soft_ , and in need of _all_ the Clarke cuddles.”

“There have been no sightings of such things, Raven, don’t go throwing hypotheses into definitive debates.”

Clarke, leaning back on her hands with her legs extended in front of her on the grass, watches the interaction with a quirked eyebrow and a faint, tight-lipped smile.

Exams had begun that morning and, to support their behaviour, Jasper and Raven were the only delinquents who had so far had an exam, the rest of them sitting out at their usual spot on the field for some last-minute cramming.

“Clarke,” Raven sighs, “can you _please_ tell this absolute _buffoon_ that Lexa is the little spoon?” Clarke’s smile turns into a grimace.

“I actually don’t know.”

“HOW DON’T YOU KNOW?!” Raven yells, head shooting up to reveal frantic eyes, her fingers digging into the grass at her hips.

“Because we haven’t really cuddled?”

“And why ever not?” Jasper says, fingers tapping wilding together and his head cocked to the side as he stares at her, unblinking.

“Because we’ve been busy studying?”

“And making out,” Murphy mumbles, eyes still glued to the textbook in front of him.

“Yeah, but you’ve been dating for, like, three weeks. How have you not experienced some hardcore spooning?” Clarke frowns at Jasper, her hands coming to pick at the grass next to her thighs.

“I dunno… we just haven’t.”

“They only hugged for the first time two weeks ago, they’re the slowest moving gays in existence,” Octavia says, laying on her back and staring into clouds with disturbing intensity. 

“But they’re girlfriends,” Finn says, his hand buried in a box of cereal. “Girlfriends cuddle.”

“That assumes that they’re not so useless as to actually ask each other to be girlfriends,” Harper responds, reaching over Bellamy—his face smooshed onto his backpack as he sleeps face down on the grass—to grab a handful of cereal.

“Be nice,” Miller scolds from beside her, quickly snatching some cereal from her hand. “I’m sure Lexa asked Clarke is a very sweet way. Y’know, since she’s the big spoon and all.”

“SHE IS _NOT_ THE BIG SPOON!!” Raven yells, launching herself across the circle to pin a protesting Miller to the ground.

“Raven, the cereal—”

“You guys haven’t made it official yet, have you?” Emori asks gently from beside Clarke, her hand resting on the small of Murphy’s back as he mutters to himself about standard deviation.

“I just… didn’t even think about that,” Clarke says, fingers more rapid in their movements within the grass. “…How long does it usually take before it’s time to make it official?”

“Depends on the couple,” Emori says, “John kinda just introduced me to people as his girlfriend the day after we realised we were dating. I also know people who dated for months before making it official, and some who never even got to that point after however long.”

“Oh… so, what do I do?”

“Just ask her.”

“But _how_?”

“Tie yourself to a bunch of helium balloons and float through her window while she dreams,” Murphy murmurs.

“Write a cute letter,” Monty says from Clarke’s other side, an encouraging smile settling on his features.

“Are we suggesting ways for Clarke to ask Lexa to be _official_?” Raven wiggles her eyebrows from atop Miller, casually eating cereal from a pile in her hand, Miller pouting as he lays on his front.

“Ohhhhh, do that radio thingy,” Octavia says, “I know I’d swoon.”

“Burn her name into a field and tell her she sets your heart alight,” Finn says wistfully, eyes glazing over and distant, even when Jasper begins poking his cheek.

“Guys—"

“Paint boobs,” Bellamy mumbles in a moment of awareness before drifting off to sleep once again. 

“Oh yeah, definitely do the boob thing,” Octavia agrees.

“Guys, no—”

“Boobs always work,” Raven nods, feeding a still pouting Miller some cereal.

“I’m not surprised that the majority of you are single, y’know that?” Clarke mutters, rolling her eyes when the delinquents simply shrug and continue, their suggestions becoming increasingly more ridiculous and disturbing the more Clarke protests. 

\----------------------------

Clarke had decided to bite the bullet and ask Lexa as soon as humanly possible, not at all because the delinquents were on her ass or because she _really_ wanted to be able to refer to Lexa as her girlfriend, but because she needed to prove that she definitely holds the potential of being the big spoon. 

Arriving home after her first exam Clarke messages Lexa, asking her how her day of studying went and if she wanted to accompany her while she herself attempts to revise for tomorrows exam.

After an almost immediate yes, Clarke goes about preparing her infamous brownies, planning on icing them once cooled with the words ‘be my girlfriend?’.

 _“Simplicity is key, after all.”_ She goes through the motions she has repeated so many times before, getting lost in the familiarity and allowing her mind to wander away from the various tasks at hand. 

A loud knock on her front door startles her out of her reverie, the eggs she had been whisking almost flying out of the bowl.

“The fuck, Lexa, my eggs almost escaped.”

“Excuse me?” Lexa stands at her front door in her sweats, hood pulled up over her head and glasses resting high on her nose.

“Your overly aggressive knocking almost made me drop this.” Clarke motions to the bowl in her hand, making her way back into the kitchen while Lexa kicks off her shoes and closes the door behind herself. 

“Well I wouldn’t have had to aggressively knock if you would have answered me the first three times.”

“What?” Lexa appears in the kitchen, dumping her textbooks on one of the stools and bringing herself to stand next to Clarke.

“I knocked four times, what were you doing?” Clarke blinks, weakly holding out the bowl of whisked eggs to Lexa.

“Brownies.”

“Those are eggs, Clarke.”

“And they’re a key ingredient to brownies, smartass,” Clarke says, pulling the bowl back into herself and lifting slightly onto her toes to peck Lexa on the lips. “Hi.”

“Hello.”

“I’m making brownies.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“I’ll have them in the oven in, like, ten minutes. You can get started upstairs?”

“Sure,” Lexa says, leaning down to capture Clarke’s lips in a firmer kiss and then leaving her with another to her cheek. 

Clarke watches her gather her things and round the corner out of the kitchen, a soft smile settling on her lips as she returns to her brownies and the musings of her and Lexa being officially official. 

\------------------------

“How are you able to focus for so long?”

“Practice. Commitment.” Lexa flicks her eyes up from her textbook. “General interest.”

“Okay, then how do you find everything so interesting?”

“I dunno… I like knowing things.”

“But how can your brain hold that much information.”

“Because I use it.”

“But there’s only so much brain, Lexa. It has to get full eventually.”

“Well, the more you use it, the better it gets at retaining new information, so not really.” Clarke pouts from her nest of blankets on her floor, legs crossed and chin propped up on her fist as she looks up at Lexa at the desk. 

“I think my brain is full.”

“No, it’s not.”

“I think it is.”

“Clarke.”

“The few wrinkles I have up there are packed to the brim with information.”

“Clarke—”

“It’s just hella useless information—”

“Clarke, I swear I will pummel you if you keep going.”

“Pfft, like you’d actually pummel me.”

“Wanna bet?” Clarke’s eyebrows furrow at the sheer determination in Lexa’s eyes. 

“I do, yes… for the first brownie.”

“How about for bragging rights and the mutual understanding that you aren’t actually stupid in any way.”

“Aww. You’re wrong, but you’re on.” With a squeal, Clarke gets forced backwards into her nest, Lexa having dived out of the desk chair as soon as the words had escaped Clarke’s lips.

“I believe I won,” Lexa says from atop Clarke, legs straddling her hips and cocky smirk pulling at her lips. Clarke grunts, attempting to lift up her torso and flip Lexa over, but doing nothing more than making her sway slightly.

“That’s not fair, you had the advantage.”

“How so?”

“You started higher than me, which automatically meant you were gonna end up on top.”

“Well, you could have put up a better fight.”

“I have the strength and determination of a turnip, Lexa, my fight is all in my words.”

“Which have been lacking lately, if I’m being honest.” Clarke gapes at Lexa, a frown quickly overtaking her features.

“You take that back.”

“Never.”

“Lexa, I swear, as soon as I get out from under you, I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Lexa teases, leaning down close to Clarke’s lips.

“I’ll, uhh… I’ll do… something.”

“Sure you will, princess.”

“You’re mean.”

“And yet here you are.”

“And yet here I am,” Clarke mumbles, her words being muffled by Lexa’s lips connecting firmly with her own.

Clarke momentarily forgets the world around her and everything in it, her senses oblivious to anything that wasn’t Lexa’s lips or the soft sounds that she made whenever she broke away only to return again with renewed determination. 

“I think something’s burning,” she murmurs against Clarke’s lips.

“Hmm?” Lexa pulls away suddenly.

“Are your brownies burning?” Clarke frowns, taking in a deep breath and realising that, yes, that smell was in fact her brownies.

“Oh no, the plan!” She pushes Lexa off her, not stopping to apologise for the soft thud she hears or to respond to a startled ‘what plan?’ as she bolts down the stairs towards the smell that signalled the beginning of a week full of disappointment and a bizarre lack of luck. 

\------------------------

While Tuesday didn’t involve an ‘almost fire’, as Clarke had dubbed it, it did involve an irritated Lexa.

Clarke, having had a shorter exam than Lexa, was waiting out on the field, hastily scribbling on a chatterbox she had to look up the steps to make.

“This is such a middle school thing to do,” she mutters to herself, playing with her construction and frequently lifting her eyes to watch for Lexa. 

Her heart skips a beat when Lexa appears. Though small in the distance, from her rigid shoulders and hunched posture that was usually always so perfect, Clarke could clearly see that she was irritated. 

And from Clarke’s previous experiences, an irritated Lexa was not a pleasant Lexa. 

“Hey, are you—”

“Fuck political studies, fuck this school, and fuck the world.” Lexa threw her bag down in front of Clarke and dropped herself beside her, immediately crossing her legs and burying her head in her hands and groaning. 

“…what happened?”

“I’ll tell you what fucking happened,” Lexa seethes, lifting her head and pointing a finger at the school. “The majority of that fucking exam was filled with shit that we were never taught, and shit that wasn’t even in the fucking textbook.”

“You read that textbook from cover to cover though—”

“ _Multiple times_ ,” Lexa says through her teeth, “and my notes are fucking impeccable, so no one here can argue that I’m wrong. It’s fucking bullshit.” Her head returns to her hands, her back slouched and taut in her frustration. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” Clarke says softly, running a hand over the small of Lexa’s back and feeling her chest swell at the way her body relaxes under her touch. “I’m sure you still smashed it though, yeah?”

“They weren’t difficult questions, it’s just that it’s unfair,” she mumbles into her hands. “Those questions shouldn’t be _in there_ if we were never fucking _taught_ the content.”

“Did the other people in the class feel the same?”

“I dunno, I don’t talk to anyone.” Lexa lifts her head and looks sideways at Clarke. “They’d have to, though. Unless I managed to be the only one who was oblivious to that content being taught.”

“Which is impossible.”

“Mmm,” Lexa hums, resting her cheek on her hand and staring at the grass in front of Clarke.

“…is that a chatterbox?”

“Uhh.” Clarke grabs it and shoves it into her bag. “No.”

“That’s so middle school.”

“Hey, they’re cute!”

“I never said they weren’t,” Lexa laughs, leaning her weight against Clarke and burying her face in her hands again. “Exams must really be getting to you though, huh?”

“Yeah,” Clarke chuckles, cheeks pink and eyes glued to the grass. “Exams.”

\----------------------

Wednesday evening proved to be the least successful attempt, even though it was the most simple, common cliché. 

“Clarke, I don’t wanna be _that_ dad, but shouldn’t you be studying?”

“Studying can wait,” Clarke mutters, hunched over a giant piece of cardboard. “Priorities.”

“Uh huh,” Jake nods, delicately holding a fresh cup of tea. “And what exactly is this priority?”

“I’ve been trying to ask Lexa to officially be my girlfriend all week, and so far”—she looks up briefly— “I have failed miserably.”

“So… you’re going for the most clichéd way to ask?”

“Dad,” Clarke sighs, dropping her markers and rising from the lounge room floor. “I just… shh, okay?”

“And here I thought you were creative.” Clarke gives him a pointed glare over her shoulder, making her way towards the front door.

“You won’t be chuckling like that once this _works_.”

“That hasn’t worked in thirty years, Clarke, but sure.” Clarke rolls her eyes as Jake’s giggles follow her out the door.

“This is gonna work. If it doesn’t… the world must just hate me.” She pulls out her phone and sends Lexa a quick text, asking her to look out her bedroom window.

“This is of course assuming her bedroom window is at the front of the house… I maybe should have figured that out first…” she mumbles to herself as she crosses the street, her head lifting slightly at a low grumble she hears to her right. 

“Can I help you?” A very small, fluffy dog stands in front of the house next to Lexa’s, head low to the ground and a steady growl emanating from it’s tiny body. Clarke stares at it, taking tiny steps away when it begins stalking towards her.

“You’re not gonna be friendly, are you?” As if on cue the dog barks and bolts toward her, yipping back and forth across Lexa’s lawn as it chases Clarke.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck—” She slams her front door behind her, the low growl of the dog still going steady on the other side.

“So,” Jake says, taking an exaggerated sip of his tea. “How’d it go?”

“You _weren’t_ right,” Clarke pants, “I was just”—a bark sounds from outside the door—“prevented from following through with it.” She ignores the giddy smile Jake fails at hiding behind his mug and heads up to her bedroom, poster hanging loosely in her hand.

Her phone vibrates in her pocket, and she groans when she reads the message, flinging herself onto her bed and burying her face in her pillows.

Dumbass, 6:34pm:  
_Was you getting chased by a mystery demon dog the reason you asked me to look out my window, or?_

\---------------------------------

“It’s fine, Monty. It’ll work.”

“I have no doubt it would, but you’re running a huge risk doing it so… publicly.”

“Yes, but I have to ensure that I won’t be chased by that dog again.”

“I didn’t even know there was a dog like that anywhere near your house.”

“Not that I—or my parents—have ever seen.” Monty gives Clarke a last reassuring pat on the shoulder before breaking off and heading towards the library while Clarke continues on towards her homeroom.

Though they didn’t need to go to homeroom during exam week, Clarke figured it would be the safest classroom to create her greatest whiteboard marker masterpiece, and finally ask Lexa to be her girlfriend.

She arrives almost an hour before anyone usually does, removing her assortment of markers from her bag and setting to work, frequently checking the clock on the wall to make sure she still has time before Lexa arrives.

She had asked her to come and, though with a significant amount of confusion, much of which was still in reference to the dog, Lexa had agreed.

“Clarke?” The voice makes her jump, sending a line through a small portion of her work and causing her to smudge a whole lot of it with her palm. She looks frantically to the door and her eyes widen further upon seeing principal Jaha standing there, eyebrow quirked as he stares at the board.

“Is that going to be a question for Lexa?”

“…Yes.”

He meets her eyes and, with a small nod, he tilts his head to look back out into the hallway.

“There are some freshmen just in front of Lexa,” he whispers, backing out through the door. “I’ll see what I can do.”

He disappears and Clarke can hear his voice boom down the hall, aggressively asking the freshmen if they feel they have settled into the school. However, she couldn’t make herself feel grateful because, after all, he had startled her into erasing the ‘my’, and she had only written the ‘girl’ from ‘girlfriend’.

Then, of course, Lexa appears, frowning down the hallway behind her as Jaha’s laughter echoes towards them. 

“I’ve never heard Jaha laugh.”

“Oh yeah, he, uhh… does that… from time to time.”

“Uh huh.” Lexa looks to Clarke and then immediately to the whiteboard. “Be… girl?”

“I’m not finished.”

“Oh… it still looks great.”

“Thanks.” Clarke’s eyes widen again when Jaha’s voice yells from the hallway, telling the freshmen to enjoy homeroom. “Goddammit.”

“Uhh, Clarke?” Clarke ignores her, furiously erasing the entire board just before three frightened looking freshmen walk into the room.

“It’s fine, no big deal,” Clarke says hurriedly, striding towards Lexa and dragging her out the door by her bicep. 

“But, Clarke—”

“Nothing you need to worry about. Man, look at the time, we’re late to study.”

“But—”

“Those textbooks won’t read themselves, aye? Gotta do it for them.”

“Clarke—” But Clarke cuts her off once again, rambling about study and useless, inanimate textbooks as she drags Lexa through the halls.

\-------------------------

Friday afternoon brought with it the end of exams and the now delinquent tradition of hot chips in the park. 

It also brought with it a thoroughly dejected Clarke and an increasingly confused Lexa.

_“It’s fine. I’ll just ask her after we eat. I’m sure everyone will want to play soccer, so I’ll just pull her aside and sit under a tree and hold her hand and ask her… nothing could go wrong with that, right?”_

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

“I dunno.” Lexa shrugs. “I just figured you’d be a lot happier now that exams are done.”

“I am happy.”

“But…?”

“But nothing. It’s fine.”

“Clarke—”

“I’m fine Lexa, honestly.” Clarke grabs Lexa’s hand, bringing her to a stop only a little bit away from the rest of the delinquents already at the table in the park. “I’m just… exhausted.” Lexa raises an eyebrow.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Lex.” Lexa still frowns, even when Clarke brings her chin down so that she could plant a gentle kiss on her lips. “Stop frowning.”

“This is just my face.”

“I mean, if you had said that a couple of weeks ago, I would have agreed with you,” Clarke says, pulling Lexa along with her towards the table.

“Would ya’ll stop being gay and eat these chips before Jasper downs them all?” Harper calls, concern etched on her features as she side-eyes Jasper shovelling chips into his mouth.

“Your friends are weird.”

“Hey, they’re your friends now too, Lex.”

“…ew.”

\------------------------

Naturally, a friendly game of soccer between the delinquents managed to turn into a bruised elbow for Finn, a broken nose for Lexa, and another defeat for Clarke.

_“So goddamn close.”_

“Okay, Lexa, you’re all set,” Abby says, handing Lexa pack her icepack after resetting her nose and moving to take her supplies back to the bathroom.

“Thanks, Abby.” Lexa winces at the pressure and sting the icepack brings, turning to look at Clarke beside her when she taps her on the hand.

“You’re a dumbass.”

“A little compassion would be great, princess.”

“You have my _full_ compassion. You also have my declaration that you’re a dumbass. You can have both.” She gives a sympathetic smile when Lexa just pouts, slouching further into the couch in Clarke’s lounge room and heaving out a great sigh.

“Stupid Finn’s elbow.”

“Hey, at least you’ll give Aden something other than us to pick on you for.” She wears an exaggerated grin, earning her a soft huff of laughter from Lexa.

“Yeah, he’ll have a field day with this… I’m gonna look so hot, too.”

“Oh yeah, who wouldn’t go for the swollen and bruised eyes and such, especially over Christmas. Very festive.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt girls,” Abby says, striding back into the room. “But Lexa, I’m sending you home.”

“What? Why?” Clarke asks.

“Because, while she doesn’t seem to have a concussion, she still needs to rest, and I know for a fact that is one thing you will not give her.”

“Hey—”

“She does talk a lot.” Lexa smiles at the indignant whack she receives to her arm from Clarke. “I’m fine though Abby, really.”

“Doctor’s orders, Lexa. Go home, rest, and I want to see you back here tomorrow morning so I can check on you, okay?”

Lexa didn’t argue, leaving a pouting Clarke with a soft squeeze to her thigh and thanking Abby once more over her shoulder as she walks out the door.

Alone, Clarke feels Abby’s eyes on her, still sitting on the couch and eyes drilling into the floor. She raises her eye’s expectantly, opening her mouth but closing it with a groan, dropping her head back against the couch when Abby beats her to breaking the silence.

“So, how’s the ‘asking Lexa to be your girlfriend’ thing going?”

\-------------------------

“Lexa, it’s 7:30am and you just had your nose set, I am not boxing with you.”

“Abby gave me the go ahead, and Saturdays are for training, so c’mon.”

“But what if I hurt you?” Clarke’s weak protests only earn her laughter from Lexa, who was pulling her out her front door by her hand and across the street to the ute. 

“Clarke, if you manage to punch me square in the nose, I will accept that pain with pride.”

“You’re mean.”

“So you’ve said, now c’mon.”

Clarke pouts the entire drive, only smiling briefly when Lexa decides to use Clarke’s thigh as a hand rest.

She pouts the entire session, though smiles when Lexa gives her a proud nod when she manages to deflect the inflatable sticks every time.

And she pouts when they’re done, sitting on the floor of the boxing ring in the gym’s basement.

“Why are you still pouting?”

“I’m not.”

“You’ve been pouty all week, Clarke. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Clarke.”

“It’s just… it hasn’t been a successful week.”

“How so?” Clarke sighs.

“I don’t really wanna talk about it, Lex.” Lexa nods, opting to shuffle closer to Clarke and grab a hold of her hand, sitting in silence until Clarke finally leans her weight against her side and rests her head on her shoulder. 

“We’ve been together for a month now.”

“Mmm.”

“Crazy how much can change, huh? And so quickly.”

“Are you getting all soft on me, Woods?”

“Pfft, never.”

“…Did you think we would ever be here?”

“No… not in this lifetime, at least.” Clarke lifts her head, admiring the strong jaw and delicate lips of the girl that had changed so much, and had changed _her_ completely.

“Be my girlfriend?” Her breath catches in her throat when Lexa turns to face her, the question falling from her lips before she even knew how to stop it.

They stare at each other for what feels like an infinite amount of time, Clarke not daring to take a breath, and Lexa’s eyes searching Clarke’s face desperately. 

When a small nod finally comes as a response, Clarke’s lips split into a wide grin.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Lexa breathes, soft smile pulling at her lips as she brings a hand up to Clarke’s chin, pulling her in for a fervent kiss.

They stay like that, giddy and absorbed in their own joy.

“…is this what that ‘be girl’ thing on the whiteboard was about?” Lexa mumbles against her lips.

“Yes.”

“And the dog?”

“The dog wasn’t a part of the plan, but yes.” Lexa laughs, pulling her in for another quick kiss.

“Third times the charm, right?”

“Sixth, actually.” Lexa pulls away.

“What?”

“The brownies were the first attempt. Then the chatterbox. And I was gonna ask you yesterday, but your dumb ass had to get elbowed in the face.” Lexa blinks at Clarke before a wide grin appears on her face. 

“You were going to ask me to be your girlfriend with a chatterbox?”

“…Yes?”

“What are you, seven?”

“Hey, it seemed like a good idea at the time, okay?” Clarke, unable to be mad at the teasing, felt her heart swell at the loud laughter that erupts from Lexa.

“Good thing I dragged you out here to box then, huh?”

“You’re the worst,” Clarke whispers, watching in awe as Lexa continues to laugh, her hand held firmly in Lexa’s grasp the entire time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come chat and get occasional updates on the writing of this story over on insta. I also post memes and goofy ass dialogues: @the.unprofessional.writer
> 
> Also, I hereby promise that I'll start responding to comments on here. I do read them, I just have a habit of forgetting that I can actually converse with yall.


	32. Obnoxiously Festive/Everybody Would

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me to you, the people, like 2-3 weeks ago: "Do y'all want the Christmas chapter on Christmas, or just asap?"  
> You, the people: "Asap, please."  
> Me: "Ah, yes, ask and you shall receive."  
> Also me, giving you the Christmas chapter on Christmas Eve Eve: "Yes, this is good."
> 
> Apologies.
> 
> But it is 7.7k words of pure fluff, so... a peace offering, really.
> 
> I hope y'all enjoy, and excuse any errors of my late night speed edit x

“Will you and your lame ass be gracing us with your presence for New Year’s?”

“Yes, Anya, my ass wouldn’t miss your three-person New Year’s Eve party.”

“Cool, and what time are you heading over to Clarke’s?”

“In a minute.”

“Cool, you should invite her and her dandy crew of delinquents.” Lexa looks up from the soccer cleats she was wrapping on the floor to give to Aden in two days, turning to stare at her phone on her bed.

“What?”

“Clarke. Delinquents. New Year’s. Yes?”

“What happened to it being an exclusive party of three?”

“Well sorry miss ‘I now have a hot girlfriend and weird ass friends’, I was just tryna be inclusive and take an interest in you and your newfound social tendencies.”

“And I appreciate that but…” Lexa pauses, taken aback by Anya’s offer. “You’ve never been one to take _that_ much of an interest.

“New year new me, hoe.”

“That can only be used during the first week of January and you know it.”

“Look,” Anya sighs through the phone, “you’re like my annoying little sister that I’ve always had to look out for, but now you have your own little motley crew that looks after you just as well and I need to make sure they keep up the good work. Plus, you managed to land yourself a damn fine girl that I need to frequently threaten to ensure she doesn’t break your fragile little heart.”

“…It’s not fragile.”

“Yeah, and you’re not gay. Now, are you gonna invite them or not? Lincoln is having withdrawals.”

“From Octavia?”

“Of course from Octavia, he’s a useless straight boy. He’s only mildly amiss that he doesn’t get to see you often.”

“Wow, cool. Glad I’m missed.”

“Well, _I_ miss you, Lexi,” Anya coos dramatically.

“Pfft, please, you just wanna see Raven.” Anya’s silence catches Lexa off guard, a gasp escaping her lips. “Holy shit, you do!”

“Hey, the pint-sized little shit has grown on me, okay?”

“Uh huh, sure, whatever you say, Ahn.”

“Shut up. Are you gonna ask them or not? Because this is your last chance before I rescind the offer.”

“Yes, I’ll ask them. It’s very sweet of you to offer.”

“Yeah yeah, shut up. Enjoy your lame movie night with your lame friends.”

“I love you too, Ahn.”

\----------------------------

“Excuse me, where is your Christmas attire?”

“Oh, my, uhh… what?”

“Lexa,” Jake frowns, closing the door behind Lexa once she steps in and kicks off her shoes. “It’s Christmas Eve. It can’t be Christmas Eve without a Christmas sweater.”

“Oh… I don’t own any, uh… Christmas attire, though.” She waits, nervous under the serious look Lexa had not come to know to reside on Jake’s features. 

“Well then,” he mutters, reaching behind him and into a box sitting at the foot of the stairs. “One shall be provided for you!” A broad grin suddenly plastered on his face, he turns back to Lexa, holding in front of him a red and green striped sweater with a large reindeer smiling in the middle of it. 

“Oh… yay?”

“Lexa, we take Christmas very seriously in this household.”

“I’m sorry, I—”

“Now, you better put on this ugly sweater and join my daughter and her friends in their nest and watch some of the greatest Christmas movies of all time.” More confused than she had ever been while talking to Jake, Lexa carefully takes the sweater, thanks him softly, and moves into the lounge room.

“Did Jake give you one too?” Lexa tries to suppress a chuckle at the look of indignation on Murphy’s face, buried in an abundance of blankets as the little spoon with Emori amongst the delinquents, bright pink and silver sweater shimmering under the light emitted by the television. “You better put it on.”

“It’s the single most important rule under this roof, Lexa,” Miller says, murky brown sweater bearing an aggressively happy snowman barely visible in the dark.

“It’s the one thing Jake might actually get mad about,” Jasper says, Finn nodding beside him and Lexa quirking an eyebrow at the almost serious tone she had never heard him use.

“They’re being dramatic, Lex,” Clarke says from the couch, patting the available spot next to her. “Dad just likes Christmas.”

“Maybe too much,” Raven mutters, pushing back an oversized Santa hat that immediately falls back over her eyes. 

Lexa smiles and steps over Raven, Octavia, and Bellamy, who were sitting on the floor in front of the couch, to get to Clarke, taking up position next to her and welcoming the blankets Clarke starts draping over her and tucking around her. 

“Hi.”

“Hello.”

“If ya’ll start being all gay, I’m gonna pelt you both with tiny marshmallows and then leave in a _huff_ ,” Raven says, eyes glued to The Grinch playing on the screen.

“Let them be gay,” Bellamy chides, “it’s Christmas.”

“Well, not all of us have people to be gay with.”

“Raven’s just bitter,” Octavia says, flinging her hand back blindly to pat Lexa on the knee. “You gays be as gay as your gay heart’s desire.”

“Uhh, thanks…?”

“Anytime, homo.” Lexa looks to Clarke.

“…Why?”

“This is just how Christmas is at the Griffin household.”

“Uh huh.”

“You get used to it,” Clarke smiles, wrapping her arms around Lexa’s waist and pulling her closer, Lexa leaning into her without a moment’s hesitation.

“I certainly hope so.”

\---------------------------

“Lexa, there’s no room for the weak at Christmas Eve dinner,” Jake says from under his toque. “You either have a fifth serving of pudding, or you get out of my house.”

“But—”

“No no, five servings is the _minimum_ for pudding. Anything less and you are a disgrace.”

“Dad—”

“Clarke, I know you expect me to go easy on her because she’s new, but that is not in the spirit of Christmas.”

“I’d say that’s the _exact_ spirit of Christmas.” Murphy winces as soon as the words are uttered, sighing in defeat and holding out his hand to Jake. Lexa, confused, turns to Clarke.

“Uh, what’s he—”

“He insulted the Christmas man.”

“What?”

“He’s waiting for punishment.”

“Clarke, that doesn’t clear up anything.” She watches with furrowed brows as Jake takes a spoon and shovels some pudding into Murphy’s open palm. “Clarke—”

“Shhh, this is the best part of Christmas.”

“…Getting punished for insulting your Dad’s spirit?”

“Nooo, _watching_ someone get punished for insulting Dad’s spirit… especially watching _Murphy_ get punished for insulting Dad’s spirit.” Blinking in confusion, Lexa returns her attention to Murphy. The table, surrounded to capacity with delinquents, was silent, everyone’s eyes locked on Murphy’s pudding filled hand.

“Clarke, I’m still confu—” and then in one swift motion, Murphy smacks the pudding into his face.

A cheer rises at the table though fades quickly, everyone returning to their pudding and acting as if nothing had happened. Even Murphy, eyes concealed with pudding, had taken his spoon and resumed shovelling his own seventh serving into his mouth, occasionally scraping some off his face with said spoon and eating it.

“Your family’s weird.”

“I know, isn’t it great?”

\----------------------------------

Harper and Finn had also been required to take the so called ‘pudding punishment’ after their quiet giggles at Jake’s insistence that everyone wear a festive hat had not been quiet enough. So, with them both wearing the largest of all available headwear and blinded by pudding as they continued to eat, Lexa relayed Anya’s question in regard to New Year’s Eve first quietly to Clarke.

“Anya actually invited us?”

“Of course she did.”

“…Seriously?” Lexa chuckles.

“Why do you find that so hard to believe?”

“I dunno,” Clarke sighs, momentarily lifting her reindeer antlers from her head to run her fingers through her hair. “She just doesn’t really seem all that keen on us.”

“What makes you say that?” Lexa’s eyebrow quirks at the incredulous look Clarke gives her.

“Lexa, she has threatened all of us at least twice, and I’m ninety percent certain that she would carry out those threats.”

“…That’s how she shows affection.”

“Lexa—”

“No no, really. If you thought I was emotionally constipated, I would have merely been a pawn in Anya’s monarchy.”

“ _’Thought’?_ I still think that, Lex.” Lexa rolls her eyes at the mischievous glint in Clarke’s features and continues, albeit with the shadow of a smile.

“She really just isn’t good at showing affection, so small threats are her way to show that she cares about whatever it is that you’re doing. Trust me,” Lexa says, placing her hand on Clarke’s thigh to hold her attention. “Anya doesn’t give you warning when she plans on… _justice_.”

“…Uh huh.”

“Yeah. So… will you come?”

“Oh, yeah, for sure. Provided, of course, that the parentals are alright with it.”

“Cool,” Lexa beams, her hand giving unconscious squeezes to Clarke’s thigh. “Would your fellow delinquents be interested, too?” 

Before Clarke could answer, the tiny bubble they had found themselves whispering in burst to a cacophony of delinquent madness. Pudding was everywhere and hats were lopsided on the heads of flushed faces.

“What—”

“Clarke! Tell your father that his reign of terror must end.” Lexa blinks along with Clarke at a furious Raven, standing and pointing viciously at a giggling Jake.

“What’s happened?”

“Your _father_ , Clarke, is demanding I take the pudding punishment for suggesting an alternate method of hat distribution.”

“This method has never failed us yet, Raven,” Jake says, arm wrapped protectively around the bowl of pudding as he points the ladle at her. “Why fix something that isn’t broken?”

“Because _I_ want the reindeer antlers, _goddammit!!_ ”

“Raven, we can just trade—”

“No, Clarke, this is about principle now. Why can’t we bring our own festive attire?”

“Because I need to make sure it is festive enough, Raven.”

“Jake, I’ve tried to be reasonable with you—”

“We may have to ask them later,” Clarke whispers quickly to Lexa, her eyes locked onto the standoff before them. Lexa nods, just as interested in the argument after Raven flings a spoonful of pudding at Jake’s toque and Finn dives in front of her to take the pudding that Jake throws in retaliation.

\-----------------------------

The great pudding standoff had lasted an entire eight seconds, ending upon the arrival of a groggy Abby silently gesturing at the pudding stuck to various surfaces of her home. 

Though, amid the clean-up, Lexa was able to formally invite the rest of the delinquents to Polis.

A chorus of muttered agreements arose, though were followed quickly by an onslaught of questions.

“How much will it cost? (We’re not the wealthiest of teenagers, y’know.)”

“Will there be alcohol?”

“Will the alcohol be _free_?”

“Will requests for alcohol be taken?”

“Will we need to bring our _own_ alcohol?” Lexa held up a hand to stop them, surprised at how quickly they silenced.

“They have enough room for you guys to crash around the apartment so no, it won’t cost you anything. I’m sure Anya and Lincoln will be happy to provide the alcohol, but I know they won’t argue if you offer to give them some money for compensation or even just bring some alcohol yourself for everyone to share.”

“Who else will be there?” Raven had asked, sitting on Finn’s shoulders to scrub some pudding off the ceiling.

“Yeah, we aren’t really that sociable,” Octavia added from under the table. 

“No one, just us.”

“What?” Raven looked down and tried to turn, unfazed as Finn staggered to regain his balance. “Don’t they have any other friends?”

“Well,” Lexa thought, pausing to hoist Clarke onto her shoulders to reach the doors of the upper cabinets in the kitchen. “They live off campus together, and they tend to be pretty particular about who they hang out with.”

“So… no?” Murphy said, sitting at the table by himself and helping himself to the remaining pudding.

“Well, yes… but also no.”

“Cool.”

“They’re just like you, Lex,” Clarke cooed, patting the top of Lexa’s head with one hand, the other still scrubbing furiously at the cabinet door.

“What? How?”

“Being stuck with us as your only friends.”

“Excuse you, I have Luna and Echo and Roan and—”

“Yeah, but we’re way cooler, so they don’t count,” Finn said, face red and breathing heavy from trying to keep a wriggling Raven atop his shoulders. 

“And I don’t hear you inviting _them_ to your New Year’s shindig,” Murphy added, pointing his spoon at Lexa matter of factly. 

Lexa, pouting and struggling to think of something clever to say, had conceded to Murphy’s pointed spoon after Clarke had leant down to plant a firm kiss atop her head, her soft giggles at Lexa’s offended expression enough to have made Lexa forget completely about the rest of the delinquents and their protests at witnessing the affection shining in her eyes.

\--------------------------

The delinquents made their ways home close to midnight, each thanking Clarke and Jake and apologising to a hair-mussed Abby standing at the bottom of the stairs. They walked outside in single file, depositing their festive head attire into the box Jake held, grinning at the scowl still painted on Raven’s face.

Bellamy and Monty had tried to take their hats home (to which their invites to any future festive events were threatened by Jake) and Emori and Harper struggled to keep Murphy upright amidst his pudding-induced food coma. 

Lexa, standing awkwardly by the door in preparation of her goodbyes, stiffens when Abby and Jake approach her, guiding a blushing Clarke in front of them with each holding her by a shoulder. 

“Lexa,” Jake grins.

“Mr, uhh… Jake.”

“Relax, Lexa,” Abby says, her features calm and gentle compared to the embarrassment on Clarke’s and the glee on Jake’s. “We were just going to ask you what your plans were for Christmas tomorrow.”

“Oh, uhh,” Lexa directs her confused eyes to Clarke before returning to Abby. “I was probably just going to spend it at the gym or something… maybe get ready for Aden for the day after.”

“Oh, well that just won’t do.” Lexa turns her attention to Jake, startled at the width of his grin.

“What, uh… what do you mean?”

“What my child of a husband is trying to ask,” Abby says, a warning glare directed at Jake, “is if you maybe wanted to spend Christmas with us?” Lexa blinks. 

“…Really?”

“Of course, dear. After all, you’re practically family already, right? We can’t have family spending the holidays by themselves.” Lexa’s surprise leaves her speechless, her eyes dancing between the three Griffins before settling on Clarke, a small, reassuring smile on her lips. 

“Uhm… that would be incredible but… I wouldn’t want to intrude on—”

“Nonsense!” Jake declares, Clarke and Abby both jumping at the sudden raise in volume. “C’mon, you can stay the night and spend the day in true Griffin Christmas fashion.”

“Oh, I can stay at my place, it’s okay—”

“Lexa, you are staying in Clarke’s room and waking up with us all tomorrow morning. Otherwise, what’s the point, I mean really?” Lexa’s eyes lock back onto Clarke’s, suddenly aware of why she had been blushing just before. 

“…You sure?”

“Of course, Lexa,” Abby says softly.” Clarke will give you some clothes, too. It’s too late and cold for you to be going outside.”

“It’s no trouble, really, I—”

“Lexa, get your butt up those stairs so you can experience our Christmas joy.” Jake points up the stairs, pushing Clarke by the shoulder towards them and jerking his head repeatedly to get Lexa to follow.

“Uh, okay… thank you both.”

“It’s our pleasure, Lexa,” Abby smile, bringing her in for a quick hug and a quiet ‘goodnight’

“Now, this doesn’t mean that your intentions with my daughter can be anything other than pure.”

“ _DAD—_ ”

“Jake, now, really?”

“No no, Jake, I would, uhh… I would never—”

“That’s MR. JAKE to you, thank you—”

“Lexa, honey,” Abby interrupts, her hand covering Jake’s mouth, “he just thinks he’s being funny. Go on upstairs and we’ll see you in the morning.” Lexa nods, unaware that she was being dragged up the stairs by her wrist. 

“Lex, I’m so sorry about him, he can be kind of a—what’s wrong?”

“Hmm?”

“Why are you crying? Lex, what happened, are you okay?” Lexa, hovering in the centre of Clarke’s bedroom, melts into the cold hands that cradle her cheeks. “Lexa, baby, what’s wrong?”

“…Your parents are so sweet and I dunno what’s happening and—” she hiccups, pulling Clarke in by her hips and dropping her head onto her shoulder, “—and they said I’m _family_ but I haven’t even _been here_ that long and—”

“Lexa, sweetie,” Clarke chuckles, pulling Lexa’s face from the crook of her neck and planting a delicate kiss on the tip of her nose, “it doesn’t matter how long you’ve been around.”

“But I’m not—”

“You’re a part of our lives, Lex,” Clarke says softly, her thumbs wiping away the tears that spill from Lexa’s eyes. “And they love you. And I… _really_ like you, okay? So, whether you like it or not, you’re kinda gonna be treated like family from now on. And that goes double for holidays.”

“But—”

“But nothing, Lex,” Clarke whispers, punctuating her words with a firm kiss. “You’re here, and you’re gonna stay… okay?” 

“…Okay.” Clarke’s features split into a grin.

“Good. Now, what attire do you wear to bed?”

“Not much, usually,” Lexa mumbles, wiping at her eyes and oblivious to the sudden flush in Clarke’s cheeks.

“…Will a t-shirt and shorts be adequate?”

“Mhmm.” Lexa moves into the bathroom to change, smiling softly when she sees a brand-new toothbrush sitting on the sink for her. 

She opens the door a short while later and laughs at the little dance Clarke was doing.

“You take forever.”

“I like to brush my teeth well.”

“Well, I need to pee, and you can brush your teeth anywhere.”

“But that could make a mess and—”

“You’re cute, but—” she leaves a peck on Lexa’s cheek as she pushes past her, “—I really need to go, so.” She closes the door behind her, leaving Lexa to wander over to the bed and sit awkwardly on the edge.

She gazes around Clarke’s room, taking in the pile of textbooks haphazardly stacked on the floor near her desk and the number of new canvases leaning against the walls.

“They’re not ready for viewing yet,” Clarke says, appearing from the bathroom and making Lexa jump.

“But… it’s just me.”

“It’s not _‘just you’_ , you’re _you_.”

“Clarke, that—”

“Just, shhhh, okay? You’ll see them soon enough.” She takes the canvases and puts them into her closet, Lexa falling back on the bed and staring at the ceiling with a pout. Clarke climbs around Lexa and settles into the bed, ignoring her huffing. “Do you wanna sleep near the wall or no?”

“…My bed is in the middle of the room, so—”

“Okay, miss ‘I’m an adult and don’t have my bed against a wall to protect me from monsters’, which side?”

“Oh, well you can have the wall if you’re scared of monsters.”

“Naww, are you going to protect me?”

“Of course, it’s part of my—”

“Chivalry, yes.” Clarke releases a quiet laugh. “Get your butt over here.” Lexa slides under the covers Clarke holds open for her and sighs when Clarke moves to wrap her arm around her waist. She tilts her head to face Clarke.

“Goodnight.” Clarke hums.

“Night, Lex.” She leans in for a chaste kiss, then snuggles into Lexa’s shoulder, eyes closed.

Lexa turns to her side, reaching to flick the switch on the lamp on Clarke’s bedside table, and settles deeper under the covers. She feels Clarke’s arm tighten around her, pulling her closer into her front.

She drifts off almost instantly, too far gone to respond to the sleepily muttered ‘fuck yeah, big spoon’ that comes from behind her.

\-----------------------

\-----------------------

“Fuck yeah, big spoon?”

“Lexa, I’m trying to sleep.”

“It’s 7am, and it’s Christmas… and _why_ did you say, ‘fuck yeah, big spoon’ while you were falling asleep?”

“Because I was the big spoon.”

“And?”

“And I proved allllll those fuckers wrong.” Lexa, having turned around to face Clarke in the dim light of morning, frowns at Clarke’s refusal to even open her eyes. 

“What does that mean?”

“Oh my god, Lexa,” Clarke groans, opening a single eye and squinting at Lexa’s confused expression. “Are you like this every morning? Because I may have to rethink a few things if you are.”

“…I’m just awake, though.”

“And I’m not, so shhhhh.”

“But Clarke—”

“Lex, you’re very pretty, but I will push you off this bed and risk damaging that face of yours if you keep asking me questions this early.” Lexa pouts, burrowing her face into the pillow to avoid the gaze Clarke now directs her way. “How are you this cute at 7am?”

“How are you this _mean_ at 7am?”

“My god, Lex, I will—”

“MERRY CHRISTMAS!!” The door bursts open to reveal Jake, dressed as a stunningly detailed Santa and holding a water gun in each hand, both pointed at the bed. “WAKE UP OR SANTA WILL BE MAD!”

“Clarke, what—”

“Santa won’t do _shit_ , or Santa won’t be getting any presents,” Clarke mumbles, not at all fazed by Jake’s entrance.

Lexa watches in confusion as Jake lowers the guns immediately, his face quickly going from giddy to worried. 

“…Please get up, I’ve been awake since five and your mother may be about to divorce me if I don’t take off this beard.”

“Then take it off?”

“Clarke, I can’t greet you both on _Christmas_ without being dressed as _Santa_.” Lexa looks back and forth between Jake and Clarke, Jake’s eyes desperate and Clarke’s barely opened.

“…Fine, give us five minutes.”

“YESSSS!! CHRISTMAS CAN BEGIN!” Jake exits with a flourish, his red form quickly disappearing down the hall and his footsteps heard skipping down the stairs. 

“…Clarke—”

“Welcome to the family, Lex,” she grumbles, burying her face into her pillow and releasing a tired groan. 

\-------------------------

“You said five minutes.” 

“We had to shower and get ready, dad.”

“But, and I cannot stress this enough,” Jake says, standing at the foot of the stairs, still in his Santa attire and wearing a deep pout, “you said _five_ minutes. _Not_ twenty.” Lexa looks to Clarke for guidance on what to do. 

“Honestly though, when have I _ever_ been only five minutes?” Jake stares at Clarke, arms crossed, and frown firmly set in place.

“This is true, but still. It’s Christmas.”

“It’s still too early to be existing, though.”

“Lexa,” Jake says suddenly, turning to Lexa and kindly ignoring the way she jumps under his intense gaze. “Do _you_ think this is too early?”

“Uhm.” Lexa panics. She turns to Clarke and is met with the most serious shade of blue she had ever seen and the quirk of a single, unimpressed eyebrow. “I think… sleep is important.”

“Don’t dodge the question, Lexa,” Jake says.

“Yeah, Lex. Don’t dodge the question.” Lexa swallows thickly, her jaw clenched and her eyes darting across Clarke’s stony features.

“Oh, would you two stop giving Lexa a heart attack.” Lexa releases a sigh of relief as Abby appears next to Jake, dark circles under her eyes and comically large cup of coffee cradled in both hands. “And would you take that _goddamn beard off_.”

“But—”

“Jake, I have always been supportive of your love for Christmas, but I _will_ burn every festive thing in this house if you even _try_ to keep me from a peaceful cup of coffee.”

Jake, head hung low, walks past Lexa and Clarke and makes his way upstairs, the Velcro of his beard heard being removed and seen hanging loosely in his grip.

“So… is your dad the only one that does mornings in this house?” Lexa asks once Abby had returned to the kitchen, leaving her and Clarke alone on the stairs. 

“No, they’re both morning people. But, y’know, if mom doesn’t get her sleep… she gets kinda snippy.”

“Like you?”

“No? I’m always snippy in the morning, regardless of how much sleep I get.”

“Uh huh… and do you think there is a possibility of that changing?”

“Don’t try to change me, Lexa,” Clarke says, slapping Lexa on the thigh as she brushes by her and heads towards the kitchen. “This is what you’ve gotten yourself into.” Lexa, following close behind, frowns.

“Well, I didn’t _know_ that before getting myself into it.”

“Well, that’s your problem now, isn’t it?”

“It’s okay, Lexa,” Abby mumbles from over her coffee, extending an arm to beckon Lexa over to the kitchen counter where she sits, wrapping it around her shoulder when Lexa props herself into the stool beside her. “You learn to accept it.”

“ABBY! WHERE’S MY SWEATER WITH THE REINDEER BUTT?” Abby groans, takes an enormous gulp of her coffee and then looks at Lexa with tired eyes.

“And be grateful Clarke is only _slightly_ like her father.”

\-------------------------

Lexa couldn’t remember the last Christmas she had that truly _felt_ like Christmas. Though the ones she shared with Anya and Lincoln will forever be some of her favourite memories, and the one’s spent with Lincoln and his mother when she was young were tame, modest, and filled with love, the overwhelming joy and spirit that filled the Griffin house was like nothing she had experienced in a long, long time. 

Clarke had made pancakes and had blushed furiously at the raised eyebrow and smirk Lexa wore as she watched her assemble the most glorious pancake stack she had ever seen. She had kicked at Lexa under the table when she leant over to whisper her understanding as to Clarke’s previous anger, as the time and effort put into the pancakes was truly something to behold and something never to be trifled with. 

Jake, significantly calmer, sat beaming while adorned in the most disturbing Christmas sweater Lexa had ever seen, and Abby had slowly come to life after inhaling five pancakes faster than Lexa had gotten through two. 

Lexa had insisted she clean up, though was grateful for Clarke’s offer to help and the frequent hip bumps she received as they stood at the kitchen sink together, content in the silence of only each other’s company as they worked.

They had walked into the lounge room together to find Jake sitting cross-legged on the floor next to the tree waiting for them. They paused, eyeing the exhaustion that had reappeared on Abby’s features, then went to join Jake on the floor. After a short cheer, he dived under the tree and began handing out presents and, to Lexa’s combined shock and embarrassed excitement, she was also given a small pile of presents to open.

Overwhelmed, Lexa had appreciated Clarke’s grounding hand on the small of her back, rubbing small circles there to bring Lexa back every time she began to get quiet and distant. A pair of brand new boxing gloves, a small pile of gym clothes, and an assortment of new tools organised before her, Lexa had expressed her thanks the best her tight throat would allow, and had promised Jake and Abby that their presents were at her house, and she would grab them as soon as they would allow.

Jake, being as he is, had ‘allowed’ it immediately, leaving Lexa to run across the street to grab the presents she had wrapped for each of the Griffins.

Upon arriving back to their house, Jake had grabbed his gift (an engineering 101 book and a toque to match his flowery apron) with childlike excitement while Abby had insisted Lexa didn’t have to get them anything, though was thrilled all the same with the fluffy blanket and oversized mug (even bigger than the one she had been using that morning) that she had received. 

Clarke had told her that they’ll exchange gifts later on, since they had to go upstairs, and she didn’t think Abby would be able to handle Jake by herself for much longer.

The day proceeded as one would expect (surprisingly), with Christmas movies and an extravagant lunch prepared by Abby, board games that Jake insisted on making Christmas themed (he had redesigned an entire monopoly board to make it ‘obnoxiously festive’, as he so proudly explained) and Clarke had insisted on sitting practically on top of Lexa throughout it all. 

It was almost 8pm when Clarke brought Lexa back upstairs to her bedroom for their gift exchange. Jake was passed out on the couch downstairs, head in Abby’s lap while she watched some reality show and sipped on the hot chocolate that Clarke had made for everyone, out of the mug that Lexa had gotten her. 

“I hope today wasn’t too much for you,” Clarke says, releasing Lexa’s hand after guiding her to sit on the edge of her bed.

“No, it was great… really.”

“Yeah?” Clarke was rummaging through her closet which, Lexa only just realised, was _huge_ and extended into a space almost the size of the bedroom she had had at the orphanage.

“Yeah,” Lexa breathes, shifting back on the bed to sit cross-legged atop it. “I don’t remember ever being this… festive.”

“You mean being _forced_ to be this festive.”

“Well, yeah, but,” Lexa releases an airy laugh. “It was still nice.”

“If you say so, Lex… close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“So I can bring out your gifts and you can see them all at once, you goober.” Lexa does as she was told and closes her eyes, tilting her head back and listening to the movements in front of her.

“How long do I have to have my sight taken from me?”

“Don’t be dramatic.”

“But—”

“I’m almost done, now shh.”

_“Claaarrrke.”_

“Y’know, some days I miss the stoic you.” Lexa frowns, eyes still closed and face tilted to the ceiling.

“You don’t mean that.” Lexa jumps when cold hands cradle her face and warm breath hits her lips.

“I know.” She sighs into the kiss, pulling Clarke closer by the back of her thighs and wrapping her arms around her legs.

“This is a good present.”

“Mhmm.”

“Why were you keeping it in the closet, though?” Clarke chuckles against her lips, pulling away but placing her hands over Lexa’s eyes. Lexa feels Clarke get onto the bed and shift behind her to sit with her legs on either side of her hips.

“Okay, ready?”

“You don’t have to ask me that, princess.”

“Don’t get cocky and answer the question.”

“Yes, I’m ready,” Lexa huffs. 

“Okay—” she removes her hands from Lexa’s eyes “—ta-da!”

Lexa blinks into the sudden light and releases a soft gasp when her eyes adjust and settle on the three canvases propped up against the opposite wall.

“Clarke—”

“I got Octavia to ask Lincoln what some of your favourite spots were… and he sent great reference pictures, too.” Lexa rises from the bed, walking slowly over to the canvases and dropping herself down in front of them.

She reaches her hand out towards the one furthest to the left, feeling the small bumps from the brush strokes that captured the backyard she grew up in with Lincoln so perfectly, down to every crack in the tiles surrounding the pool, every lemon hanging from the tree that grew in their neighbour’s garden, and every flare of light that would reflect off the windows in the early morning sun.

She smiles at the canvas in the centre, a darker painting of the boxing gym she trained at for nine years, the cracks in the punching bags and the tears in the ring rope somehow still so clear in the dim basement light. 

She realises Clarke is beside her when she gets to the final canvas, a soft hand resting on her knee and patient eyes watching her closely.

“This one is my favourite.”

“Really?”

“Yeah…”

“I thought you’d like the spaces in Polis more, for the memories… and such.”

“But you were with me at this one,” Lexa murmurs, delicately running her fingers over the trees sitting on the horizon. “We had our first date here.”

“And our first kiss.” Lexa hums in affirmation. “Hard to believe that was only a month ago, huh?”

“Really?” Clarke nods. “It feels like longer.”

“Yeah… summer wasn’t really even that long ago.”

“How quickly things change, hey?” Lexa turns to Clarke and leans in for a deep kiss. “Thank you… this is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“Yeah, well… makes up for all those times I was an oblivious dumbass, right?” Clarke grins sheepishly, Lexa bumping her forehead against her shoulder through her laugh.

“I guess so. Your character development is something to admire, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah, well… better late than never.” Lexa hums, staring at Clarke and then the canvases for a while longer before standing up. “Where are you going?”

“I still need to give you your present, princess.” Lexa grabs the large box that she had brought to the foot of Clarke’s bed that morning, wrapped and perfectly tied with a bow. 

“That is the most aesthetically perfect present I have ever seen.”

“Well, this is the most creative and artistic I can get, so I’m glad you’re impressed.” She places the box behind Clarke, moving to sit beside her with enough room between them for Clarke to swivel around. 

“This is a big box, Lex.”

“Yes. Now open it.”

“I don’t want to ruin the wrapping though.”

“I will wrap more things for you, it’s okay.” Lexa’s knee bounces at her sides while she waits, the plain brown box earning her a confused look from her girlfriend though, once she opens the box, her face splits into a giant grin.

“LEX, HOW MUCH DID YOU GET?!”

“I don’t know specifics about art, so I just got, y’know… the stuff I thought was important.”

“Lexa, there are like _thirty_ different colours here… and they’re oil paints! They’re so expensive… and how many brushes and—AND VARNISH TOO? And sponges and palette knives and— _how much did you get_?” Lexa blushes under Clarke’s intense, questioning eyes.

“…What I thought was important? Your parents said this is the kind of stuff you use so, I dunno, I just—” A squeal interrupts her and she is forced backwards, finding herself sprawled on her back with Clarke on top of her.

“THANK YOU thank you thank you thank you thank you, oh my gosh this is _so much_!!”

“You, uh… you like it?”

“I _love it_ , Lex, holy shit! I rarely get new stuff because it costs sooo much and I try to use _everything_ I have before buying more… holy shit this is the _best_ , thank you!” Lexa giggles, Clarke showering her with soft kisses all over her face. “ _You’re_ the best.”

“I mean, they’re no works of art, but—”

“Can you stop trying to constantly ruin the moment and just accept my praise, please?”

“Oh, right… sorry.” Clarke chuckles against her lips.

“You’re a dumbass.”

“I’m your dumbass though, right?” Clarke nods, deepening the kiss.

“You are… my dumbass.”

\--------------------------

\--------------------------

“She’s definitely going to be there?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Considering she is _already_ at my house, yes, I’m quite sure.”

“Does she know I’m coming?”

“Of course she does, why wouldn’t she—”

“So she’s gonna have some embarrassing stories about you?”

“Yea—wait, wha—”

“Because I have some to tell her.”

“Aden, you haven’t even seen me that much, _how_ do you have embarrassing stories about me?”

“You’re just a goldmine of potential embarrassment, really.” Lexa flicks her eyes quickly over to the passenger seat of her car and swallows nervously at the devious grin that Aden wore.

“…Please don’t tell her anything.”

“I’m gonna tell her.”

“Please, no—”

“Oh, yes. _Everything_.”

“Aden,” Lexa says shortly, “can you please at least _wait_ until Clarke and I have been together for longer than a few weeks?”

“No.”

“But—”

“Lexa, it is literally my job to embarrass you. It’s not my fault you make my job so easy.”

“Yeah, but—”

“So why is Clarke already at your house?” Lexa sighs, shaking her head as she drives past the sign welcoming them into Arkadia. 

“She wanted to cook.”

“She _wanted_ to cook? Or you _begged_ her to cook because you can’t even prepare broccoli?”

“I’m _sorry_ I didn’t know the intricacies of broccoli preparation, okay?”

“What is she cooking?”

“I dunno,” Lexa shrugs. “She wouldn’t tell me.”

“I bet it’s gonna be incredible.”

“How do you even know Clarke can cook?”

“Because she looks very capable. Unlike you.”

“HEY—”

“Does she know I despise cinnamon?”

“ _I_ didn’t even know you despise cinnamon. _Who_ despises cinnamon? It’s delicious.”

“Well, some of us just have a more mature palate than others.”

“Aden, I—”

“You love me, I know.” From the corner of her eye, Lexa sees Aden turn towards her and flash his widest grin. “And you are just soooooo grateful that you get to spend Christmas with me. Well, kinda, anyway.” Lexa scoffs shaking her head.

“Yeah, well… maybe I am.” She pulls into her driveway at the same time a soft ‘me too’ leaves Aden’s lips. “If you embarrass me, you can walk back to Polis, though.”

“Pfft, like Clarke would let you do that to me.” He jumps out of the ute, leaving Lexa alone in the car with her cheeks getting increasingly more flushed the closer he gets to the front porch.

“…It’s fine. What could he possibly have to say to her… right?”

“How much you talk to yourself is gonna be the first thing I tell her!” Aden shouts from the porch.

“SHHHH—” The door swings open behind Aden, Clarke’s figure appearing and her lips moving shortly before she blows a kiss to Lexa, still in the ute, while Aden laughs. “…What?”

“I said,” Clarke says, approaching Lexa as she steps out of her ute, “that I already knew that.”

“What? How?”

“You talk to yourself when you study.”

“No… no I don’t.”

“You do,” she giggles, pulling Lexa in by the hips and landing a peck on her lips. “It’s often very motivational stuff, too. Heck, even I feel empowered by your mutterings.”

“Why are you both so mean?”

“Well, as Raven would say, I woke up today and chose violence. Now,” she presses another quick peck on Lexa’s pout, a soft ‘ew’ coming from the porch, “c’mon, our feast is almost ready. You and Aden can set the table.”

\--------------------------

“Clarke, you _do_ know that it’s only the three of us, right?”

“Yeah… why?” Lexa looks across her kitchen and at the significant lack of surface space, every counter covered with plates and bowls and other dishes Lexa wasn’t too sure as to the name of.

“…How did you cook so much?”

“You were gone for a while, Lex. Plus,” Clarke says, motioning for her to follow Aden’s lead and take some of the plates over to the table. “I’m a very good cook.”

“See?” Aden says, walking past Lexa with a casserole dish in his hands. “Told you I’ve got an eye for these things.”

“Your house is lovely, by the way. Thanks for inviting me over so many times before.”

“Thanks,” Lexa mutters, still overwhelmed by the volume of food they would all have to ingest to even make a dent in the small feast Clarke had prepared. “We, uh… we were always at yours. I didn’t think it was that… big of a deal?”

“I was joking Lex.” Clarke hands her a large bowl of mashed potatoes. “Now go help your brother, he shouldn’t be doing more work than the host.”

“Yeah, this is underaged labour,” Aden says, walking back into the kitchen to take another dish, filled with something potentially cranberry related. 

“It’s also free food, so—where’d you get all the food to make the food?” Lexa interrupts herself, concern filling her eyes while Clarke just gives a soft smile.

“The grocery store?”

“Yeah, but when?”

“Christmas eve? It’s been in my fridge.”

“…You _prepared_ for this?” Clarke releases a humoured scoff.

“Lexa, that’s how cooking works. Preparation is kind of a key component.”

“…I need to pay you back for the food.”

“It’s fine, Lex.”

“No, I need to—”

“Lex, this is like another gift for you, okay? Accept it and grab some food because I am _starving_ , and you really don’t want to argue with a hungry Clarke.” Lexa pauses, watching as Clarke gathers some more cutlery before heading out of the kitchen.

“Wait,” Lexa says, lunging over to the kitchen counter to grab a dish and following after Clarke. “Did you just refer to yourself in the third person?”

\------------------------

“And then she cried.”

“She did?!”

“Oh yeah, and she looked so small and fragile, too—”

“Clarke—”

“I can picture that so clearly.”

“Right? It’s almost like she does it all the time.”

“It was _one_ time,” Lexa says, indignation colouring her tone as she shovels more mashed potato onto her plate. “And you cried too.”

“Well, yeah, but no one is surprised when I say I cried watching The Fox and the Hound.”

“It’s true,” Aden says, pointing his fork at Lexa. “You have this whole brooding commander thing happening.”

“I do not.”

“You absolutely do, Lex.”

“Clarke—”

“Oh, and you should have seen her when I asked her to be my girlfriend—”

“CLARKE—”

\------------------------

“—and she would not shut up about you on the drive here.”

“Naww, really?”

“Yeah, she was all _‘Clarke’s gonna cook, and it’s gonna be great, and she’s so pretty, and I’m so lucky, and what would I ever do without her, and’_ —”

“I was _not_ —”

“Shh, don’t interrupt, Lex,” Clarke says, hand resting on Lexa’s thigh. They had moved into the lounge room, where Lexa gave Aden his presents and, with Lexa watching in awe, Clarke also gave Aden a small gift; a framed drawing of Lexa and Aden inspired by the photograph that Aden had kept with him all these years.

And now, much to Lexa’s dismay, she was stuck on the couch between her two favourite people, who insisted on doing nothing but embarrass and ‘playfully’ mock her.

“Are you guys _only_ going to talk and _lie_ about the things I’ve said and done?” Clarke and Aden exchange a quick glance before looking back to her.

“Yes,” they say simultaneously. Lexa huffs, sinking into the couch cushions and pouting at them both.

“Can you at least give me a break for a while? Talk about something that _isn’t_ embarrassing.”

“Oh, sure thing Lexi.”

“Yeah,” Clarke agrees, nodding at Aden while wearing her most seriously expression. “I think we can do that.” Lexa sighs in relief, relaxing into the couch amidst the silence that follows.

“…Hey Clarke, did you know I despise cinnamon?”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, and Lexa didn’t even know.”

“ _What_?”

“I know, right? Like, some sister she is.”

“A disgrace, really.” Lexa groans, burying her head in her hands and sinking deeper into the cushions.

\-------------------------

Close to midnight, with Aden passed out on the couch and a substantial amount of food surprisingly eaten, Lexa stood with Clarke out on the porch. Both bundled in their coats, Lexa delicately wraps an old woollen scarf she had found hidden in her closet around Clarke’s neck, pulling her in by the ends and planting a soft kiss on the tip of her nose. 

“Thank you for today, Lex.”

“I should be thanking you; you were the one that made it… Christmassy.”

“It was my pleasure,” Clarke says through soft giggles. “I adore your brother.”

“And he adores you… which isn’t great for me.”

“Because of how good you are at embarrassing yourself?”

“ _No_ , it’s because _he_ is good at _making it out_ that I’m good at embarrassing myself.”

“…Babe—”

“It’s not my fault I… I do things.”

“Oh, of course not.” 

“Y’know, some would consider this bullying.”

“No one here does though, do they.”

“…No.” Lexa melts into the hug Clarke pulls her into, wrapping her arms around her waist and burying her face into the crook of her neck. “You guys are still mean though.”

“You like the attention, I can tell.”

“I like _this_ attention,” she murmurs into Clarke’s neck. 

“Smooth, Woods. If you weren’t such a nerd, I’d think you were a player.” Lexa hums, lifting her head and bringing a hand to cup Clarke’s cheek.

“I’m underwhelmingly neither.” She brings Clarke’s lips to her own.

“I beg to differ,” Clarke mumbles against her lips.

“I’m so chivalrous though.”

“You’re such a nerd, too.”

“Yknow,” Lexa says, pulling away from the kiss and smirking at the frown that quickly pulls at Clarke’s eyebrows. “You really should be nicer to the person giving you kisses.” Clarke squints.

“Don’t you use my line against me.” Lexa grins, bringing Clarke in for one final, slow kiss.

“You need to get out of this cold… I’m also pretty sure your parent’s may be watching us again.”

“They better not be, I spoke to them about that.”

“Yeah? And how’d that go?”

“It was the most awkward discussion of my life, and…”

“…And?”

“And they may have refused to promise, so yes, they could be waiting to creep me the fuck out.” Lexa chuckles.

“Your parents are weird.”

“Hey, you have to deal with them too, now.”

“I mean—”

“Shhh, don’t ruin it. I’ll… see you tomorrow afternoon? After you drop Aden off?”

“Sure, what did you want to do?”

“I dunno, just… hang out?”

“Sounds good,” Lexa hums. “Bye, Clarke.” Clarke sends a small wave over her shoulder, making it halfway down the driveway before pausing and spinning on her heel.

“Oh! Also, everyone said yes to New Year’s except for Miller. He’s spending it with Bryan and his friends.”

“I’ll let Anya know,” Lexa calls, shaking her head as Clarke grins and nods, turning back around and making her way across the street and into her house.

“Are you just watching her walk away?”

“ _Jesus_ , Aden,” Lexa says, jumping slightly at the voice coming from directly over her right shoulder. 

“…That has to be the gayest thing ever.”

“What, you wouldn’t make sure your girlfriend makes it home safely?”

“I would, I just wouldn’t stare at her ass the entire time.”

“…You absolutely would… everybody would.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How domestic, how lovely. 
> 
> A very Merry Christmas to those who celebrate. I know shit is going to be difficult with current restrictions but hey, there's nothing wrong with drinking and watching Christmas movies by yourself or with people over zoom. (If any of you need someone to talk to over the holidays, feel free to message me over on insta (@the.unprofessional.writer). I'll be more than happy to keep y'all company.)
> 
> Also a happy New Year... let's hope 2021 is less of a fucker than 2020
> 
> Much love, and see you all next year with hopefully a more consistent writing schedule and more regular updates xxx


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